


For reasons Wretched and Divine

by TheBoneWitch



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Black Girl Magic, Clay just straight up doesn't exist, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gemma being the matriarch we all deserved, Gemma is not a raging asshole bitch, Happy being a human, Happy deserves love?, Happy has a soul, Happy is capable of emotion beyond homicidal anger, Jax teller being a homeboy, Mutual Pining, PoC, Slow Burn, Sweet and innocent (or as innocent as the Tacoma killer can be), The MC being a group that loves each other and doesn't try and kill each other, diner, lots and lots of pie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 50,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoneWitch/pseuds/TheBoneWitch
Summary: The diner was found by accident. The rain was impossible and freezing, roaring down from the sky in sideways sheets that turned the asphalt into a strip of Teflon. It was dangerous conditions for a car, let alone a motorcycle.Or: There is a reason Happy keeps going back to the diner, and it's not the pie.
Relationships: Happy Lowman/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 167
Kudos: 183





	1. Peach Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Psa, it is so hard to write Happy as completely canon compliant because I wanted to give him actual dialogue and Hap says maybe a sentence an episode. So, I gave him a complex thought process and a soul and made him less terrifying to the public. (how else is a relatively ordinary girl supposed to even look at him?)  
> Almost to the point where I can say he's an original character but oh well.  
> These won't be terribly long chapters, just chunks of moments.

The diner was found by accident. The rain was impossible and freezing, roaring down from the sky in sideways sheets that turned the asphalt into a strip of Teflon. It was dangerous conditions for a car, let alone a motorcycle.

_ Big Jim's Diner and Bakery  _ was still open during a typhoon for some godforsaken reason; the building was small and colorless in the relentless rain, but the inside was lit, and it was a no brainer decision to head inside.

Happy was positively  _ murderous  _ when he opened the door, the cheery jangle of the doorbell grating his eternally thin nerves. Water poured off him, pooling in his boots and dripping to the worn linoleum floors. The inside was everything promised, pale green vinyl booths pressed against the big windows, blissfully warm air puffed out of the ceiling vents, Nina Simone crooning from the jukebox in the corner, butter yellow walls tacked with photos, and most importantly, the mouthwatering scent of food that all but slapped Happy in the face when he opened the door.

An old man turned to look at him from behind the case of pies, fingers frozen over the keypad of the register. His clever eyes flicked over Happy, taking in the tattoos on his head and the cut-off on his shoulders. Happy never cared when people stared, he understood that he gave off an air of menace, and he never ducked his head when he had eyes on his cut, but he felt too damned waterlogged and horrifically tired even to square his shoulders.

"Can I help you with something, son?" The old man asked, a little weary but respectfully diplomatic.

Happy Lowman was a Son of Anarchy, a Man of Mayhem, he had been shot and tortured and was a professional hitman, he was the motherfucking  _ Tacoma Killer _ , but he started shivering in the doorway of a diner a little after nine pm on a Wednesday night, and he hated it.

"Bathroom?" He questioned, fingers curling into fists to stave off the shaking. It didn't work.

The man's eyes softened a little, and he pointed an arthritis crooked finger at a small alcove in the corner. "Over that way,"

Happy grunted thanks and stalked over, his boots squeaking with every step.

The bathroom was old but clean, the tile on the wall was chipped, and the faucet had probably been witness to more presidents than Happy could name, but again, it was clean.

Happy couldn't help but feel a little bad as he stripped down, wringing his clothes into the sink, and scrubbed his whole body down with scratchy brown paper towel. He was making a bit of a mess, but as he shoved his head under the ancient hand dryer that sounded like a squadron of robots being tried for war crimes, he felt a little less bad about it.

The puddles of water on the floor were carefully mopped up, the mile of paper towel he used was artfully pressed down into the trashcan, but when it still overflowed from the bin, he just pulled out the bag and tied it off, setting it by the door so he could take it out when he left.

He was a hitman, but he was also his mother's son.

Twenty minutes of holding his clothes under the hand dryer had left them damp but livable, and Happy would be lying if he said he felt comfortable standing ass naked in a diner bathroom forty-five minutes from even the boundary line of Charming.

Stuffing more paper towels into his boots that were beyond the point of saving (he had already gone through all the stages of grief, they were damn good boots), he exited the bathroom.

The water he had tracked in was already cleaned up, and the same twinge of guilt pinched his lips together as he walked back up to the counter, his silent appearance catching the old man off guard.

"Where do you want this?" Happy asked, holding up the clear trash bag in his hand, showing half a rainforest worth of soggy paper towel. 

"Set by the back door, it'll get tossed when it stops raining," The old man's mouth quirked to the side at the unnecessary kindness, and Happy resolutely fought off the feeling of getting a stranger's approval.

Happy wove his way through the little diner, through the quaint little kitchen that smelled downright  _ intoxicating _ , to the back door. There was already a bag of trash leaned up against it, so he grabbed that one too, wrinkling his nose at the sound of the rain crashing against the door. He wanted to help, but he didn't want to get wet again, and a few seconds of scanning found him an umbrella. It was white with bright yellow flowers all over, but there were no obvious holes in it. The back door squeaked loudly as he stepped through it; the cheery flowered umbrella popped open and protected him well against the vindictive rain as he jogged to the dumpster.

With the trash bags in the dumpster and the umbrella back on its hook, Happy nodded to himself in content. He didn't like inconveniencing people when he could help it, and right now, he could help it. 

A buzzing in his pocket pulled his fouling mood from the rain and yanked the phone out, amazed that it had survived the rain. A god he didn't believe in must be looking out for him tonight.

He quickly found his way back to the booths; the old man didn't try and catch his attention as he flipped the cellphone open and held it to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Hey man, where are you? You alright?" Jax questioned, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm good, just got caught in the rain," Happy sighed, throwing a baleful look out the window, the road pretty much invisible in the darkness and rain.

"You want me to send Half-sack up with the van?"

"No," he glanced around the practically empty diner. "No one should be driving right now in the rain,"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Jax sighed, "Where are you? I'll have him come up when it slows down,"

"A place called 'Big Jim's Diner,' just outside Charming on the highway,"

"Diner? Bring me back some pie!" A muffled voice called out from the phone, and there was a scuffle as Jax grunted, "Tig, fuck off,"

Happy smirked and hung up the phone.

The smell of peaches caught his nose before his eyes comprehended movement. 

Happy, not known for having impeccable people skills, tried his best not to openly stare at the waitress that came to stand next to his booth.

"This is on the house; thank you for taking the trash out; you really didn't have to," she smiled at him and slid a steaming plate of peach pie that was effectively melting the two scoops of ice cream. She filled up a mug with coffee, and his stomach rumbled.

Happy never really paid attention to anyone's eye color; he couldn't be bothered to care, remembering only a few of those that had snagged and held his attention, like how blue Tig's eyes were when he tried dancing with Happy when he took too much LSD or that his mom's eyes were nearly black just like his, or the first girl he ever had a crush on had the most brilliantly green eyes that he didn't care that she punched him in the face on the first day of first grade.

As socially eloquent as he was, Happy had to clamp down on his tongue to refrain from asking if she was trying out for the part of Bambi with her wide, honey brown eyes.

"My Ma would kill me if she found out that I didn't," he said, unable to look away from her and her round cheeks and wildly curly black hair pulled into a half-hearted ponytail and her freckles and her dark skin and the kindness that radiated from her soft body. 

The admission was rewarded with another smile; this time, it showed off white teeth hidden under braces.

Happy was suddenly very unsure of himself.

The thought of her being any less than twenty-five hadn't crossed his mind, but adults didn't get braces, did they?

"Well, thank you anyway," she said and walked back to the counter with the old man.

Happy did not watch her walk away even as his body fought to turn his head. He was a scoundrel, and a hoodlum and a deeply flawed individual, at least those were the things that his mom called him, but he didn't put his eyes, or anything else, where they weren't welcome.

The pie was good in a way that made him want to ask for the recipe even though he couldn't tell you how to preheat an oven. Food didn't really matter to Happy, not in the way it did for Bobby, who would spend hours lovingly perfecting some odd Scandinavian recipe for scones, but he practically closed his eyes while he ate, coming to the conclusion that peaches were the best flavor of anything on the planet. He'd give every cigarette in his possession for this pie, every dollar in the bank, and probably his left leg too.

The sigh he let out when he all but licked the plate clean couldn't be described as anything less than mournful. He knew if he bought a whole pie to take with him that Tig would track it down, and Happy knew he couldn't stop himself from punching his brother over it, so he decided to go home empty-handed. 

_ Blackbird  _ hummed in the corner, a song that his Grandma would sing to him when she babysat while his mom was at work, back when things had been simple and problems few.

That was a long time ago.

Laughter snapped his attention away from the fuzzy dull haze of his childhood, pulling his eyes to the counter. The waitress laughed at something the old man had said, and it was a hell of a laugh. With her head tipped back and eyes shut, it was loud and boundless, and it filled the whole diner, and a little bit of Happy too.

Not too many places were safe anymore, especially for a person like Happy. He felt safe in his apartment, sometimes, with his back up against a wall and his gun never too far from reach. He felt safe in the clubhouse with his brothers surrounding him, sometimes, when they aren't in the middle of a war with the Mayans or the Nords or the Irish, when there's no threat of retaliation to blow up the clubhouse or kidnap their women or burn their children.

And in this moss green squeaky vinyl booth in a nowhere diner listening to strangers laugh with a belly full of the best pie he's ever eaten, Happy felt his shoulders drop, restless foot stop tapping the linoleum, angry hands curl comfortably around his coffee.

It wasn't safe; it was still too foreign and strange to be safe, but it wasn't holding a gun to his head, and that was almost the same thing in his book.

An hour passed, the rain stopped assaulting the ground, and the wind no longer wanted to peel the siding off the building, and Happy sat all the while in his little booth, shamelessly sprawled out under the hot vent, absorbing the conversation of the two across the diner.

His hitman's brain was harder to turn off than he thought, he had never really tried to turn it off before, and he picked up little snippets of information while they talked, even though he was perfectly content with basking in the heat like a cat.

The old man's name was Jim, and he assumed that he was the namesake of the diner, and the waitress was Sunshine.

The name had Happy cracking his eye open in disbelief. This wasn't Georgia; no one was called Sunshine anymore; they weren't on set of the Dukes of Hazard. And yet, as he squinted at the two of them, he saw the name tag pinned to her blue shirt, and sure as shit, it read  _ 'Sunshine.' _

Happy huffed out a breath caught halfway between annoyance and admiration.

He didn't want to like her ridiculous name, even though he loved when people had just as absurd of a name as he did.

His phone started buzzing again, clattering loudly on the tabletop where he had set it, causing Jim and Sunshine to look at him.

"Hello?" He said gruffly because he didn't know how to talk any other way.

"Hey Hap, I'm just comin' down the road-"

"Who is this?" He interrupted, checking the caller ID again, but he didn't recognize the string of numbers.

"Oh, uh, it's uh, it's Half-sack?" It wasn't supposed to come out as a question, but every time the prospect tried to say a statement, it came off as an inquiry.

"Oh," Happy grunted.

"Do you not have my number saved?"

"No. Why would I want your name saved on my phone?"

"My real name isn't Half-sack, you know, it's actually-"

"You said you are coming down the road?" Happy interrupted again, glancing out the expansive windows again to look for the van. It was still raining, a miserable looking shower that Happy didn't even want to look at.

"Yeah, uh, I'll be there in a few. Is the food any good?"

Happy hung up on him.

Sunshine had collected his plate a while before and seemingly took no offense to Happy's silence, which he appreciated more than he should have.

He saw the headlights swing around in the parking lot and recognized the van.

His clothes were stiff but dry, except for his boots, and he was still bitter about it, and he made his way to the counter, tip in hand. He hadn't really thought to air out his wallet, so the bill was wrinkly and looked worse for wear, but Ben Franklin was still visible, and that's all that mattered. 

Jim was reading the newspaper, a very old man thing for him to do at nearly ten at night, and Sunshine was bent down and messing around in the pie case.

"That was the best pie I've ever eaten," Happy said with complete honesty as he put the bill on the counter, sliding it closer to the waitress. She popped up from the floor with pinkened cheeks at the compliment and hadn't yet noticed the tip on the counter. Jim did, and he narrowed his eyes at the biker.

"It's Jim's grandma's recipe," she redirected the praise, and Happy nodded but didn't press it any further. He knew that it took more than a good recipe to make something that good.

Sunshine crossed her arms over her plush chest that Happy didn't allow himself to look at as she glanced down at the table, mouth dropping open at the sight of the one hundred dollar bill that had been put in front of her.

The door chimed open, and Half-sack stumbled in, looking like a half-drowned puppy. 

"Happy, come help me load your bike; that thing weighs like a million pounds,"

Happy nodded to Jim and turned around, only making it a few steps before Sunshine called out.

"Wait, I can't accept this-"

Happy hovered in the doorway and offered a shrug.

"The pie was really good."

The door shut behind him, leaving a shocked waitress staring at her frowning boss.

The ride back to the MC was how it always was when Happy was alone with the prospect; it was just forty-five minutes of Half-sack making attempts at conversation and getting monosyllabic replies.

"Do adults get braces too, or is that just a teenager thing?" Happy asked, stunned at his own question. He never started a conversation, and especially not about something nonMC related.

Half-sack was just as shocked, and he glanced at the biker to his right.

"Yeah, I mean, adults get braces too. My sister got her's put on when she was twenty-seven,"

Happy nodded to himself, unwilling to admit the idea brought him some relief.

"I think you're teeth look great, Hap; you don't need braces," Half-sack said.

"Shut up."

"Okay."


	2. Peach Pie and Amber Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm writing this story and I can damn near anything I want with it, I'm aging down Happy because no one ever seems to do that and they have him falling for girls literally half his age. I cannot do that, because I MYSELF am half his age and literally cannot fathom dating a man that much older than me, (let alone a man but that's my business) SO! For this story, let's say that Happy is a solid 30. Sound good? Okay good.

It took two weeks for him to show up again at the diner. He hadn't been purposefully ignoring it, nor had he decided not to come back, but it took two weeks for everything to slow down to the point that he could disappear in the afternoon and not be missed.

So, instead of finding a hobby, he parked in front of 'Big Jim's Diner and Bakery' and walked through the door.

It was busier in the daylight and good weather, a few couples tucked away in the booths, a young family wrestling with a toddler in another, the bar-like peninsula with stools each held an old man around Jim's age, all of their elderly heads pivoting to look at Happy. 

"Hey stranger," Jim called out, bushy eyebrow quirked. "Didn't think you'd be back so soon,"

"I wasn't lying about the pie," Happy shrugged, earning an understanding look from the other men around the bar.

"Sunshine makes the best pie in California," one of the men said; another man shook his head. 

"In the country,"

"In the world," another added, Happy nodding solemnly with each addition.

"It's just pie, you guys," Sunshine appeared from the kitchen holding a heaping plate of food that she slid in front of one of the men.

"Yes, and it's wonderful," the oldest man said, his liver-spotted hand affectionately patting her arm.

"Harold, you are too sweet," she laughed, squeezing his hand.

She looked up and met Happy's eye, and he swore she looked surprised to see him, a twinge of pink rising to her cheeks, but he couldn't fathom why. 

"Hi, do you need a menu?"

"Yes," he lied, knowing he was just going to get the pie.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," she said as she grabbed a menu from the box by Jim, who was still watching Happy with a careful eye.

"Is your name really Happy?"

The look she gave him was so impossibly shy that it startled him, and he paused. He hadn't remembered her right; her eyes were brighter, hair shinier, lips softer. How could he have forgotten when it was all he could see?

The men at the bar made no attempts to pretend that they weren't eavesdropping.

"Yep," he said, voice a little hoarser than he thought it'd be. "Is your name really Sunshine?" He turned it back to her, not wanting to explain the origin of his name. If he were being perfectly honest, he would have ignored them completely if anyone other than her had asked the question.

She hummed, dangerously close to a laugh.

"Yessir, that's what you get when your parents were raised in Mississippi," she grinned at him, shy even though she was initiating the eye contact.

Happy found himself smiling back, less at what she said, more at the spread of her lips and crinkled eyes.

God knows how she'd react if she knew the Tacoma killer was smiling at her.

The men were looking up inquisitively at him, and he felt tense under their watch.

"Pick any booth; I'll meet you there," she said, and Happy nodded, turning to find his seat.

The corner booth he had found the last time he was here was open, and he felt oddly familiar with the worn green vinyl as he slid into the booth, back to the wall to survey the dining room.

Sunshine grabbed a mug from the shelf of mismatched dishes, the one in her hand looked homemade and a little lopsided, painted bright pink and blue and took the coffee pot with her.

Happy felt a little stupid as he watched her walk to him for thinking that she was a teenager. It was pretty obvious now that he wasn't exhausted and angry. She sidetracked her way to him to bend down and grab the toy the flailing toddler had dropped, grinning at the baby that started loudly jabbering to her. She patted the top of his head, and Happy felt his mouth go a little dry now that he was allowing himself to look.

Gemma had dragged him to an art show once, telling him that it would give him a little humanity to be around it, and he had wandered the room with the matriarch for hours, ignoring the smugness she exuded when she right that he was enjoying it. There was a particular painting that had rendered him motionless for several seconds as he stared at it. It was a little abstract, drawn solely in shades of brown and red, the canvas bigger than his kitchen table. It was the silhouette of a woman, naked as a jaybird, sprawled out haphazardously on a fancy futon, showing every curve and crease of her body. She looked nothing like the croweaters he had rolled with, cocaine and meth never really helped you _gain_ weight, and the woman in the painting was soft and rounded and overflowed a little.

And as Sunshine walked to him, apron cinched at her waist in an inadvertent display of her... assets, skinny jeans loving her legs and uniform shirt, all he could think of was that painting.

She set the menu in front of him and poured him coffee in his lopsided mug, smiling politely and saying she'll be back in a few minutes to take his order. 

Happy had nodded and opened the booklet, pretending to deliberate on what he was getting. He didn't have to think about it; the words 'peach pie' had been living on the edge of his teeth for days now.

He thought that he could maybe substitute the craving somewhere else, and the chain restaurant he had chosen absolutely didn't cut it. The peach pie he had ordered tasted like imitation vanilla and industrial-grade cleaning detergent, and he all but spit it back out on the plate. He left immediately after that, slapping a ten-dollar bill on the table and practically running from the building.

Bob Dylan played on the jukebox, and the hum of conversation lulled Happy into a comfortable little bubble; the serenity wasn't even broken as Sunshine asked for his order, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth when he said 'peach pie' without any hesitation.

He was floored with how much he enjoyed being the cause of even the tiniest quirk of her mouth.

She didn't even bother writing down the order, just slipped the notebook in her apron pocket and slipped the pen into the wild burst of hair that came from her ponytail, kinked strands falling to brush the tops of her shoulders.

Happy knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. Still, he forced his eyes to rest on the back of her head as she walked to the counter to get his pie because the gaggle of men was watching him watch her, and he didn't want to be asked to leave for sneaking a look at the waitress' _generously_ proportioned posterior.

* * *

The steaming pie and scoops of ice cream were set in front of him, and Sunshine placed her hands on her hips.

"Alright, everything good? Are you happy with what you have?" She looked at him earnestly, and then she paused, realizing what she had said.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not able to fight off the grin creeping up her lips.

"I am happy," Happy said, lips stretched wide in what Jax called his 'shark-toothed grin,' and he never knew why, especially when it pinkened her cheeks again. 

Maybe she has a medical condition.

"Okay, I'll leave you to your peach pie, _Happy_ ," she teased bashfully and left him.

He wasn't sure how she could be as shy as she was and still have the ability to tease him, but he wouldn't ever complain. Truth be told, he liked it—a lot.

The pie was better than he remembered, which was mighty impressive considering he had spent the last fourteen days thinking about it and putting in god tier status in his mind, and it lived up to his expectations and more.

Happy's head thumped against the booth seat as he chewed the bite, unable to open his eyes. He'd had orgasms less eventful than this.

When Juice called half an hour later and burst his warm little peach pie bubble, Happy could have throttled him.

Even _he_ knew that it would be odd to tip that much money again, so he figured that twenty dollars were an appropriate tip, and he carefully set it on the counter by the register as he left, Sunshine busy in the kitchen with the cook.

"Make sure that gets to her," He said to Jim and the gaggle of men as he made for the door.

* * *

And that's how it went for weeks. He'd stop in whenever he could get away, sit in his corner booth, and absorb the calming presence of Sunshine. He had a damn near pavlovian response to the woman; her smile worked knots out of his shoulders better than a massage, her laugh lowered his blood pressure, and he never, not _once,_ needed to light up a cigarette when he was in ten miles of the diner.

Chibs had once suggested that he go to therapy, and Happy figured that this was the closest he'd ever get.

Sunshine also convinced him to eat the meals too, not just the peach pie, and he did so without argument, methodically working his way through the menu.

He wondered what other things Sunshine could get him to do by simply asking. It would be a downright embarrassing and ghastly list. All she had to do was look at him with her big golden amber eyes; she didn't even have to pout or say please; she got whatever she wanted.

This waitress in an obscure restaurant in the middle of nowhere yielded significantly more power than she knew, and it would have had Happy pumping the brakes if he wasn't enjoying the ride more than he probably should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Happy is a frugal little asshole with his money, but not today my friends. He gives out tips because remember, I'm making him be human and have a soul.  
> I'm also realizing that I don't know how to write shy characters. I've only written women as outspoken and confident, and I don't know how to do shy. I mean, I'M shy, but I also never have complete control over a conversation as I do with these, so forgive me, I'm trying.


	3. Amber eyes and Tattooed lines

He's in a rush today, and he hates it, and himself a little too.

A new smiley face was inked into his stomach, every time he moved, his shirt brushed against it, and while it normally gave him a surge of satisfaction to feel, he had no such luck when he was in the diner.

He tried to stay in the calming building for at least forty-five minutes every time, but he had only been in for less than twelve when he stood up to leave, feeling guilty and carrying his plate to the counter.

Jim was absent from his seat in the corner, and all the men that gathered to gossip were gone too, but the restaurant was far from empty, but no one was focused on Happy for the first time, and he didn't mind it one bit. He understood Jim's trepidation at the biker's now usual appearance and growing interest in his waitress that was practically his granddaughter, but Happy could say with a clean conscious that he not a shred of ill intention towards Sunshine. He just wanted to be in the aura she gave off, and maybe to get close enough to see if she always smelled like peaches.

His phone buzzed in his pocket; it was Juice, again. He shoved the phone back down and leaned impatiently against the counter, looking for Sunshine.

"Hey, Happy, you leaving already?" She rounded the corner to the counter, and she hip-checked a cupboard closed on her way, the motion of her body burning its way into Happy's mind.

"Yeah," he said, sounding as forlorn as he felt.

She nodded and made his change, long-fingered hand reaching out to give him the quarters when he saw something on her arm that definitely wasn't there before. He had seen her bare forearms before, and it's not that he didn't pay attention to her body, he most definitely _did_ pay attention, but she had on long sleeves that day, and now they were pushed up to her elbows.

Her hand was shockingly small in his as he gently cupped the back of her hand in his palm, index finger and thumb on either side of her wrist as he carefully turned over her arm to see.

Her skin was so soft and warm that his brain almost short-circuited, but he fought it.

A flower bloomed on the inside of her forearm, bold black lines and proper shading, the center of the flower was a deep red that faded out into her dark skin, each petal equidistant and geometrically even. The edges were a little raised still, showing the young age of the mark.

It was a good tattoo; Happy couldn't find much else wrong with it other than the fact that he hadn't been the one to do it himself.

"It's a magnolia for my parents. It was their thirtieth-anniversary last week," Sunshine said, not trying to pull her hand away, and Happy was met with the unfettered force of her amber eyes. It always caught him off guard when she looked at him like that, like she was seeing more than just his face, and he always felt a little bare under the direct pressure of her gaze.

"It looks good on you," Happy said, voice rumbling, reveling in the way his thumb fit in the dip of her wrist, and he reluctantly let go.

"Thanks," she whispered, still absolutely incapable of receiving compliments.

Happy pocketed the change and slid a twenty-dollar bill her way, which she accepted with an eye-roll.

She told him that he didn't have to give her that much money every time, but he had shrugged his shoulders.

"It stung a little more than I thought it would," she mused, tapping a blunt fingernail against the center of the flower, tracing the stamen.

"Yeah," Happy tapped the top of his head and the snake that was coiled on his skin. "This one too." For a split second he almost lifted the hem of his shirt to show her the new addition of ink to scar his skin, but he didn't have any way of passing off the smiley faces as anything innocent, so he didn't mention it.

Sunshine grinned.

"I think I'll keep all of mine below my chin," she said drily.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Sunshine?" Happy asked as he walked out the door, using her name for the first time in conversation.

He liked the way it rolled off his tongue more than he was caring to admit.

"Good question," he heard her sigh before the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the chapters will be like this, small little snippets of moments I think Happy would deserve if he was written more like a character and not a two-dimensional hitman with an alarming lack of personality.


	4. Tattooed lines and and Impatient sighs

The pictures tacked to the cozy yellow walls are what held Happy's attention that day, and he surveyed as many as he could from his corner booth.

Most of them contained people he didn't recognize, old photos mixed in with the new, showcasing the decades the diner had been open.

Unsurprisingly, he liked the ones with Sunshine in them the best. There was one where she absolutely _covered_ in flour, the photographer catching her in a candid moment with her mouth open in shock at the flash. Another was her cheek to cheek with a perpetually grumpy looking Jim, Sunshine smiling so wide her eyes weren't even open, Jim rolling his eyes but holding still for the photo. He scanned over the rest of the pictures, zeroing in on frizzy hair and bright eyes. A teenage Sunshine holding a baby basset hound puppy, Sunshine wearing an apron surrounded by at least fifteen little kids in a classroom, Sunshine with her arms wrapped around the fry cook, Ruby, two pictures of Sunshine holding a diploma standing next to a _beaming_ Jim, the old digital prints dating the two photos as four years apart.

The mental math did itself in Happy's head; the one displaying the high school diploma was almost a decade ago, leaving her age close to twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

Assuming that he would have put in the patience to actually _graduate_ from high school, they could've attended at the same time; granted, he didn't grow up in California or pay as much attention to girls as he did to fights.

But the thought was still soothing, and he didn't really want to dwell on why.

Today, the diner was busier, Jim bustling around the dining area too, taking orders with not nearly half as much grace as Sunshine. Happy didn't mind that it was full, the people didn't bother him as much as not getting more of her attention did, but he never did much with it anyway, so he didn't allow himself to complain in his head about it for too long.

Out of habit and curiosity, Happy took notice of every patron that walked through the door; most of them were regulars that found their seat with no problem, greeting Jim and Sunshine like the friends they were. A few new people came through, and even less were, in Happy's mind, appropriately appreciating the diner's ambiance and the luck they must have for being able to experience it.

His saltiness for new customers held tried and true as a group of college-aged boys walked in, all coifed and polished from their more than likely private academy. The name of a richy person university rattled around in Happy's brain somewhere, but he didn't put any thought to it.

Sunshine greeted them brightly, her usual outfit of blue uniform shirt and jeans, black apron, and the natural explosion of fluffy curls tied in a bun with four different pens sticking out of it was intact, as always.

The college boys were seated, blatantly ignoring her hospitality.

Though not the best at it, Happy minded his own business.

He continued minding his own business as Sunshinemade her rounds around the diner, refilling coffee cups and chatting with the customers, her infectious laughter settling nicely into Hap's chest.

"We're ready to order," one of the college boys called out, and in the split second that it took for Sunshine to turn around to react, it was deemed as not fast enough as another boy said, "Hey big girl, ready when you are,"

Happy bristled, his metaphorical hackles standing on end as he watched Sunshine flinch at the insult flung her way.

"It'd do you some good to walk faster, fat ass; you might burn off all that extra weight you're carrying around," another joked, shameless chuckles rising from his friends.

Happy was out of his seat before the sentence left the man's mouth.

Rage simmered in his body, buzzing in his veins and hissing down his arms like lightning. 

"What?" Sunshine asked, voice small, hand frozen from where she was retrieving a pen from her hair.

Now, Happy was _boiling_ , the dangerous kind that left you with burns and a fear of water. In one quick movement, he slipped between Sunshine and the table; jaw clenched so hard his teeth might crack.

The cutlery rattled as he slammed his hands down on the table and gripped the edge, leaning his body into their space. 

"Say it again," he said lowly, wrestling his voice into something lethally calm and even, dripping every ounce of the hitman that lived in his head into his words.

The private school boy's mouth popped open in shock at the sudden appearance and loud noise.

He tightened his hold on the table so he wouldn't smash his perfect white teeth into the tabletop. 

"You're going to stand up, give the nice lady a generous tip courtesy of your trust fund, then you're going to apologize and walk out the door," Happy tilted his head, keeping his voice perfectly even more for Sunshine's sake than his own. The man's eyes narrowed at the biker, mentally calculating how this would end for him if he didn't do as he was told. His eyes took in the venomous snake inked into his skull and landed on the colors stitched in Happy's cut and how he never bothered enough to completely wash the blood off the 'Men of Mayhem' patch from the last...altercation he had. 

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not going to work. Now get up and do as I say." Happy warned, practically salivating at the thought of getting to throw a punch.

"You don't work here; you have no authority to tell me to leave," the man growled back and had the gall to look Happy in the eye while he said it.

"Jim," Hap called out, voice only loud enough to speak to the proprietor, but he had the attention of the whole diner.

"Do you mind if I take out the trash again?"

The college kid's mouth twisted into an ugly line.

"Just keep them out of the actual dumpster, alright, son?" Jim said. His arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the men in the booth.

"Get up." Happy snarled, keeping his voice as quiet as he could. He _was_ trying to keep it civil.

He didn't back away an inch as the grumbling teenagers slipped out of the booth, staring them all down without having to force the malevolence in his gaze.

They carelessly flicked money on the table, but it was over seventy dollars, so Happy didn't comment. Only when they turned to face Sunshine did he straighten up.

She stood defensively, arms wrapped around her torso as if she was holding herself together, thick bottom lip caught between her teeth in a way that she might draw blood.

Happy wanted to smash their teeth in with his newly broken-in boots, he wanted to start their gelled up hair on fire with his cigarette lighter, he wanted to follow them out to their ridiculously expensive car and run them off the road, but he didn't.

Their apologies were halfhearted and noncommital, and none of them looked her in the eye, but the words were audible, so again, Happy didn't comment.

The Son stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them hastily walk out the door, tires squealing as they pulled out onto the road. For once in his life, he wished the cops were prowling the streets, looking for a reason to pull someone over.

When he was sure they were good and gone, he turned to look at Sunshine, but she was already making her way into the kitchen, disappearing around the corner, Jim closely behind her.

Happy was suddenly very aware that nearly every eye in the restaurant was on him as he stood in the middle of the room. They had all seen the situation, listened to every word, and had seen how quickly the wrath had risen in him. He had spent _weeks_ carefully pressing himself into a mold of nonviolence and, at best, the human decency level of kindness with everyone in the diner at any given time.

And in one streak of anger, he had shot the notion of himself in the head.

He felt his shoulders rise incrementally, _hating_ how the whispers started immediately.

It was then that he realized how this could have potentially been an embarrassing moment for Sunshine, and how she was most likely used to the occasional rude customer and probably had her own way of dealing with them that didn't involve Happy all but pulling a gun on them.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

The group of douchebags hadn't been able to order food before Happy had told them to leave, so there were only four coffee mugs sitting on the table, and he gathered the cups, another bite of resentment streaking through him when he knew that they didn't appreciate the unique mugs Sunshine had paired to each of them.

Jim reappeared a minute later, lips pressed thin but didn't say anything to Happy as the biker let himself into the kitchen to dump out the coffee in the sink and carefully set the mugs into the dishwasher. He had absolutely no clue how to run the thing, so he left it alone and went back to the table and collected the cash and set on the counter next to Jim, who was still watching him with an odd look, and finished cleaning the booth.

* * *

"Do you," Happy glanced away at the clock, fidgeting with the twenty-dollar bill in his hands. "Do you think she hates me now?"

Jim leveled his look from under his bushy eyebrows that mashed his equally impressive bushy mustache, giving him every ounce of the fatherly stare that Happy had missed out on when he was a kid.

It made him squirm, and he _hated it._

Though Jim was of neither intimidating height nor weight, Happy started to understand the whole 'Big Jim' thing.

"She's a strong gal, Hap; she can take care of herself,"

He nodded because he knew it was true; he never thought for a second that she couldn't take care of herself; that's not why he jumped in when he did.

"And to be honest," Jim sighed impatiently, pulling the newspaper closer to his wrinkled face to read, the words coming out forced as if he didn't want to admit it. "She likes you just fine, even when you're a bull-headed bastard,"

Cold sweet relief sizzled over his worked up shoulders, squashing the rush of adrenaline in his body and leaving him dreadfully tired.

He slid the twenty on the table and grabbed a pen from a cup by the register, and uncapped it with his teeth.

 **_Sorry I'm an asshole,_ **he scrawled, adding a smiley face at the end as a signature, something that he always did and that Jax found wildly entertaining.

"You know it's illegal to deface currency, right?"

Happy's head snapped up, pen cap still trapped between his teeth.

Sunshine leaned against the wall, arms crossed but not like she would fall apart if she were to let go. Her eyes were a little swollen, something that he wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't his job to notice little things about people.

The pen cap creaked as he clamped down his jaw at the thought of her crying in the bathroom because of those assholes, or worse, him.

The urge to tell her that it wasn't actually illegal to write on money and that he learned that from a two-fingered chronic masturbater that was in hot water with the Chinese was strong, but he withheld the information. He never wanted to _tell_ people anything; it was hardly ever convenient for him for people to know details about his experiences.

So instead of talking, he flipped the bill around and let her read the words; another wash of relief ran down his spine when she smiled at the message.

"And how was I supposed to know that was from you?" she queried, sounding a little tired.

"Smiley face," he pointed to the corner of the note.

"Smiley face for Happy, I get it."

He forced himself to stay still under her scouring look, even though it was like she was peeling back layers of his soul with her wide Bambi eyes, searching for something that he wasn't sure was there anymore or even to begin with.

"Thank you," she whispered.

As he was about to shrug and tell her it really wasn't something to thank him for, he heard her whisper some more.

"No one's ever wanted to get in a fight for me when someone's made fun of me before," she laughed a little, without the humor, "Not even an argument,"

And damn if it didn't blow the wind right out of his sails. Everything he could have said, every word he'd ever learned, flew right out of his head as he continued to stare at her reddened eyes and weak smile.

Happy remembered once when he had punched someone in the throat because they said, verbatim, that Gemma was starting to look her age. Or when there had been an all-out brawl because a dick at a bar had pushed a joke a little too far about Opie's wife. Happy couldn't imagine not being surrounded by people that were ready to start a war for you at the drop of a hat.

The door chimed open as a new customer came in, and she straightened away from the wall, her slender brown hand squeezing Happy's as she passed by him, giving him a lungful of the sweet smell of peaches and vanilla.

"Welcome to Big Jim's, table for three?" he heard behind him, but all of his focus was on his left hand, attempting to find the mark she had seared into his skin, body thrumming and alive.

He couldn't even _fathom_ how fucked he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any situation you guys want to see these two glorious dumbasses experience? I'm always open to suggestions, no matter how small. Doesn't even have to be between the two of them, I'm open to pretty much everyone in the SOA universe. (except Clay. Never him) I don't start school until next September, I'm pretty free until then, it will not be a bother, promise.


	5. Impatient sighs and Blue skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sunshine says 'motherfucker' loudly and emphatically. Twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get to triple edit this one like usual, so please excuse any errors, but if it's a biggie that you don't even know what's happening, let me know.

Rushing Gemma was never a good idea, even if holding your tongue ended up killing you; whatever death it was would be better than her wrath for telling her to hurry along. 

Currently, it was killing Happy.

"A little to the left," she mused, finger tapping her chin as she watched Happy and Half-sack scoot the painting to the left. He wasn't sure how he got wrangled into this; Chucky worshipped the air Gemma breathed; he would have been overjoyed helping her redecorate the clubhouse.

She squinted at the position of the painting for several long seconds, and Happy swore he saw the life leave Half-Sack's eyes in the duration of it, but she finally sighed.

"I guess that's good enough," she handed Half-sack the nails and hammer, letting Happy take the brunt of the weight of the painting.

That shit was _heavy_ , and he growled when Half-sack dropped the nails, making him hold the painting longer yet.

The very second it was secured to the wall, he tried to leave, snatching his helmet off the counter when Gemma called out for him again.

"Happy, slow down,"

He could have cried.

"Yeah, Gem?" He turned around and got caught in a quick hug that smelled like expensive cigarettes and even more expensive perfume.

"Thank you for helping me hang that painting," she kissed his cheek.

He grumbled out a garbled mixture of 'it's no big deal' and 'you're welcome.'

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Gemma asked, her perfect eyebrow arched at the helmet in his hand and the incessant tapping of his fingers.

"Nowhere," he answered too quickly, causing the other eyebrow to raise.

Gemma Teller was one of the only people on earth, besides his own mother, that he was scared of. And right now, he was afraid as her dagger-sharp gaze deduced him to pieces.

"What's her name?"

Her pursed lips drew into a cat grin as he turned the helmet over in his hands and mumbled.

"I'm not gonna make fun of you for wanting to see a girl, sweetheart," she laughed. "She's gotta be something special if she's got _you_ all but running to go see her,"

Happy, who never had trouble staring people down until they looked away first, was having a hell of a time meeting Gemma's eye.

"Sunshine," he said quietly, casting his eyes up to the ceiling before flicking back to Gemma. There was a glint in her eye that was always there when she was teasing a Son about a girl they liked as if she was a happy mother hen watching her brood grow.

"She pretty?"

Happy nodded solemnly. If he were better with words, he'd be able to articulate _how_ beautiful Sunshine was, but his serious nod would have to suffice.

"Prettier than me?" She dared.

Happy grinned, the kind that made his cheeks hurt a little from disuse, and he grabbed Gemma's face and planted a kiss on her forehead. He knew better than to take the bait.

"Love you, Gem," he said as he jogged down the steps.

"I want more grandbabies!" She called out after him as he got on his bike, the smile in her voice audible.

* * *

There was only one car in the entire parking lot in front of Big Jim's, and Happy had to reassure himself that he didn't get the schedule wrong that he may or may not have memorized.

The handmade sign read _'We're Open!'_ on the front door, and Happy cautiously peeked his head in the door.

The inside was emptier than Chucky's love life, Jimi Hendrix the only noise in the diner.

Anyone other than Happy would have been creeped out by the utter lack of life, but he pressed on unfazed, leaning over the counter to look into the kitchen.

"Hi, welcome to Big Jim's-" Sunshine flew around the corner, trying in vain to get the wide streak of flour off her cheek.

She startled at Happy being a lot closer than she anticipated, letting out a squeak as her hand slapped over her mouth.

"Oh my god, you scared me; I thought you were a robber," she laughed. "Thank god it's only you,"

The thought settled uncomfortably warm in Happy's chest; he couldn't recall one time that someone had been relieved to see him, let alone felt safe enough in his presence to voice it out loud. 

It was the sort of feeling he could get used to.

"Just me," he echoed.

"Yep," she popped the 'p,' wiping at her cheek again but missing the flour entirely.

"Peach pie?" She asked as if it were a question worth wondering about.

"Yep," he replied, popping the 'p.'

She laughed a big, carefree, air stealing sound that crashed against Happy's chest like a hearty hug.

"Since you're the only one here, would you mind trying out some new desserts that I've come up with? My usual taste test squad isn't here today, and I need some feedback ASAP," she gestured to the bar where the group of Jim's friends always sat.

"I will eat anything you put in front of me," Happy said, gravely serious. He had once lost a bet against Chibs and had to eat haggis as a punishment, but he'd do it again if Sunshine were the one that made it.

"Noted," she grinned.

"Where is everyone?" Happy asked, unable to be under her direct gaze any longer without starting to squirm because apparently, he's a twelve-year-old boy now.

"There's a big gun show in the next town over, and they have like four bounce houses for kids out front, ergo," she gestured to the empty diner, "slow day."

The fact that she was alone with Happy dawned on them at the same time because she walked back into the kitchen, saying she'd get the samples and his pie.

Happy sat down on the stool by the counter instead of his usual corner booth and wondered if she would be uncomfortable with just him in the restaurant. _He_ knew he wasn't going to hurt her, and he hoped he had given her good enough reason over the weeks he had been stopping in to make her believe it too. Still, Happy also knew the ingrained fear that women had of men, and he wouldn't dream of being offended by something as simple as self-preservation.

His momma may have raised a hitman, but she made sure he was a self-aware man too.

He reminisced on it for a moment while waiting for Sunshine, all the times he had made a point not to go down the same aisle as a woman in a store, or make it painfully obvious that he wasn't paying attention to them, making sure he gave them a wide berth and made physical contact, even accidental, virtually nonexistent.

Even though he was usually the most dangerous person in a five-block radius at any given time, he still likes to think of himself as harmless.

Sunshine came back into the room; a verifiable platter balanced on her hand.

At least twelve different desserts were on it, some easy enough to identify, some were concoctions Happy likened to the abstract drawings Abel sometimes showed him.

He picked up his fork without hesitation.

Usually, Sunshine walked away after handing him his food, leaving him to eat without her eyes on him, but this time, she stood in front of him from the other side of the counter, nervously gnawing on her thumbnail as he chewed.

As expected, it was delicious. It was better than great; it was more satisfying than the times he had taken less than legal pharmaceuticals, better than every piece of food he had put in his mouth up until about nine weeks ago.

"Is it good?" she asked, golden Bambi eyes wide and focused only on him.

Happy swallowed the bite, already mourning its departure, and he nodded.

"Better than sex," his words as serious as a grave.

When he had first met her, Sunshine had been shy in a way he didn't think adults could be, rarely venturing beyond polite, initiating conversation out of job requirement only, prolonged eye-contact always led to blushed cheeks and stumbled sentences, the only part of her that was unbidden was her laugh.

And now, she wouldn't stop talking.

She paced behind the counter in front of Happy, elaborately describing each new dessert he tried, explaining the ingredients and the difficulties and where she thought she went wrong, throwing her hands out wildly while she spoke, miming portions and actions. 

Happy was, in a word, entranced. 

Soon his plate was empty, and he didn't feel remorseful about the criminal amount of calories he had just consumed because his brain was riding a high of sugar and feel-good chemicals. 

"So, which one gets to be on the menu?"

Hap stared down at the plate with a frown. That was like asking him which one of his friends he'd shoot first, except that it wasn't, because he was always itching for a reason to put a bullet in Tig. This was a harder question.

"You're gonna make me _choose?_ " he looked up at her, feeling a little betrayed.

"Well, yeah, they can't all go on the menu," she shrugged, Happy's eyes _not at all_ tracking the rise and fall of her chest during the action.

Well, maybe just a little. In his periphery.

All the names and ingredients and flavors danced around indecipherably in his head, dare say, a little mockingly, and just as he opened his mouth to say that he was not qualified enough for this job, there was a fizzle and a pop, and it went dark.

Well, as dark as it could get with the sunny blue sky lending its light through the wide windows, but they both looked up.

The spotlight hanging from the ceiling over Happy had burnt out, and for a split second, he wondered if it was because of his indecision. 

" _Motherfucker,_ " Sunshinegroaned, glaring up at the light. "As if I didn't have enough to do today,"

Not much caught Happy off guard, and considering his long run with a group as wild as SAMCRO, it was an impressive feat to get the drop on him. But hearing Sunshine, cute, innocent, pie-making Sunshine with braces and bright yellow converse hightops with flowers drawn on with a sharpie, say _motherfucker;_ it made top ten shocking moments in Happy's repertoire.

He gaped at her in awe.

Grumbling under her breath the whole time, she made her way into the closet and got a new lightbulb and the ladder, an awfully rickety thing that Happy distrusted immediately, and flicked off the light switch for the whole dining area.

 _"This is why,"_ she mumbled to herself, thinking Happy couldn't hear her, _"I need a boyfriend,"_

Happy pushed the sentence and the accompanying thoughts out of his head before it could take root and watched her climb the ladder.

She climbed slowly with healthy amounts of trepidation, and Happy bit back the comment of 'scared of heights?' at her intense frown and concentration, but he recognized it as a moment that teasing her wouldn't help. He wasn't all too good at pinpointing moments that _were_ appropriate to tease her during, so he usually kept it to himself.

It was also not all that hard to remember that she wasn't one of his rough and tumble friends that had thicker skin than a rhinoceros. Simple comments could make or break her.

So he watched her climb the ladder as quietly as he could.

When she got to the top, a precarious enough perch for her already, she reached out to unscrew the burnt-up bulb but couldn't reach it. By like, a lot.

 _"MOTHERFUCKER,"_ she said, significantly louder than before, sighing impossibly harsh with impatience.

The word, however volatile by design, stretched a smile over Happy's mouth.

The look of defeat on her face should have been less adorable than it was, and he pushed that out of his mind too.

"I can do it," he said instead of watching her struggle further, even if it meant hearing her say more wonderfully foul words.

She looked down at him from her vantage point, equal parts skeptical and hopeful.

"Really?"

"Really." He cleared away his plate, noting the sigh of relief she gave when her feet were planted solidly on the ground and away from the ladder.

Happy ignored her invitation to the ladder and opted for leaping up to the countertop, startling a second squeak from her.

He wasn't significantly taller than Sunshine, he hadn't spent much time standing next to her to get an accurate mental measurement, but it was enough that he could comfortably reach the spotlight to unscrew the blackened bulb.

"Be careful," Sunshine chastised, not quite understanding how indestructible Happy Lowman was.

"New one," he said, holding out the other for her to swap out. Her warm fingers brushed his during the swap, and it was the third thing he had to force from his mind that day.

Lightbulb replaced, he glanced down at Sunshine before he planned on jumping down, but stilled his actions at the odd look on her face. Belatedly, he realized that reaching up had pulled the hem of his shirt with, exposing a strip of his stomach, and of course, it _had_ to be where the patch of smiley faces was inked into his skin.

Happy reassured himself that she had no idea what they meant, and the somewhat embarrassed look on her face could mean half a dozen different things. Just because he understood women's need to feel safe absolutely _did not_ mean he understood much else about them.

"Honey, I'm home," the door chimed open, and their heads whirled around as Jim walked in, closely followed by his group of friends and a few other random people.

They all stopped and stared at Hap, who was still standing on the counter.

"Why are you standing on my counter? Sunshine, why is he standing on my counter?" Jim bellowed, earning chuckles from his friends that filtered in around the steadfast man.

"He's changing a lightbulb for me, gramps, slow down," she rolled her eyes, collapsing the ladder down.

As far as Happy could tell, Jim wasn't her actual grandfather, but she threw the title around without hesitation, and Jim begrudgingly allowed it, even though he obviously adored it.

"I charge more than free samples to start stripping anyway," Happy deadpanned, jumping off the counter. It received several laughs from the other patrons finding their seats, a grumble from Jim, and a bright red Sunshine that hurried herself to the closet to put away the ladder.

Happy wondered if she was feeling okay.

To his right, the group of men started talking about the guns from the gun show they had just left. Happy didn't have much to say about firearms without sounding like a murderer (which he was), implicating himself in a crime (he broke at least eight laws in the last week alone), or end up showing off his gun that had the serial numbers filed off (he had never legally owned a gun before in his life).

Sunshine came back into the room, tightening her apron and patting her hair to check for pens; there were three sticking haphazardously from her thick ponytail.

Happy slapped down a twenty on the counter next to his empty plate and caught her eye.

"I still can't pick a favorite; all of them were amazing,"

Sunshine's grin was the kind that crinkled her eyes at the corner, and something in Happy's chest constricted, and he had maybe a palpitation or two.

"Thanks,"

She still had flour on her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want a few chapters from Sunshine's perspective or should it all be Happy?
> 
> As promised, Gemma is still a woman with a solid backbone, but not a backstabbing bitch. You can choose to acknowledge the horrible joke or not, up to you.
> 
> Also, there's a line of foreshadowing in this, which line is it?
> 
> Of course, I'm making my version of Happy a RAGING feminist because the world is already so dark and I hope it brings all of us a shred of peace, even if it doesn't match his cannon character. I simply don't care.


	6. Blue Skies and Quick to Rise

If the ear-bleeding crash hadn't caught Happy's attention, it was the scared half scream after that did it.

For once, he had forgone the peach pie in favor of the new addition to the dessert menu, something called 'Slice of Heaven,' and it was properly named. When he had asked Sunshine about it, she told him that she had pitched the idea of calling them 'Better than Sex' to Jim, but he had turned her down.

It was easily the funniest thing Happy had heard all week.

But the scream from the kitchen had wiped all traces of humor from his mind, and he was on his feet in an instant, sliding over the counter divider instead of lifting it like a normal person, Jim hot on his heels.

Five, thankfully empty, giant metal mixing bowls were scattered across the kitchen floor, some of them still spinning. Sunshine stood in the middle, a hand clapped over her mouth but looking sheepish.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Jim asked, looking around for the problem.

"Someone left the back door open, and a pigeon flew in," Sunshine said, voice quiet.

"A pigeon?" Jim asked incredulously.

She pointed to the counter, where, sure as shit, a pigeon was standing, watching them with his beady little eyes.

Hilarity surged through Happy, and he couldn't help the laughter that poured from his mouth. It was louder than he remembered, his laughter, still as harsh and grating as the rest of him, and he couldn't quite pinpoint the last time he had laughed at something funny and not mean.

"Don't laugh at me; he flew right in my face," Sunshine admonished, but she was starting to laugh too.

"You two are absolutely insufferable," spinning on his heel, Jim left the kitchen.

Inconsistent bubbles of laughter burst from his mouth as Sunshine reached out her hands and, _honest to fucking god_ , just _picked up_ the winged rat and held him away from her body.

"He's kinda cute." The bird swiveled its empty head around to look at her and cooed gently; another barking laugh left Happy's mouth.

"Yeah, until he shits on the floor,"

"Don't listen to him," Sunshine crooned to the bird, stroking its neck with her thumb. "He doesn't appreciate delicate things,"

Except that he did, and he wanted to tell her that, but he couldn't find the words once again. He appreciated her, and she was the epitome of delicate and soft. Juice had taught him a trick years ago to help curb his impulsivity and lack of brain-to-mouth filter. "If you aren't completely sure that it won't make things better, then don't say it. And if you're still not sure, then ask me before you say it." The advice had saved him more times than he could count, and he wondered if he could slip away for a few seconds to call his friend and ask him if that was something that he could say to someone.

Sunshine continued baby-talking the pigeon, who seemed to be enjoying her attention immensely (Happy could begrudgingly relate to that, except that Sunshine never stroked his head, and he was wildly jealous of it).

"Do you think Jim will let me keep it?" She asked, mostly to herself.

"Maybe," Happy shrugged.

"I couldn't take him home; Apestoso would eat him," she looked sadly down at the bird.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

"What?" She turned to look at him and laughed. "No, I don't have a boyfriend; Apestoso is my dog." Shaking her head, she gave him a reproachful look.

"If you know people that eat pigeons, you need better friends," she commented dryly.

"My friends do crazier shit than eat pigeons."

"You live an interesting life, Happy. Now open the door for me before you try throwing him in a crockpot for your friends," the sight of Sunshine pointing to the backdoor with a relaxed pigeon in her hands yanked another laugh from Happy's mouth, even as he did as he was told.

"Goodbye, little friend, don't ever come back!" she said as she opened her hands for the bird to fly away, but he just sat in her palms like a dunce.

"Did you hit your head when you came in?" Sunshine mumbled, slowly setting him on the concrete step. He hopped out of her hands and turned to look at her, tilting his head up to her and cooing.

"Wow, pigeons really are stupid," Happy commented, standing over her. 

"Shush."

Sunshine bent down again, her shirt and jeans separating in the movement, and bared four square inches of the small of her back, smooth and dark.

Happy forgot how to breathe. It was obtuse of him, really; crow eaters showed square _feet_ of skin a day, and never not once had it so effectively drained every thought from his head as a small strip above the band of her high-waisted jeans.

In his distraction, he missed the conversation that was happening, but somehow Sunshine had reasoned with the bird that he needed to fly away, or he'd be a quick snack for the alley cats.

The pigeon cooed once more at her before taking flight into the patch of trees.

"Did he just...listen to you?"

"Of course he did; I'm irresistible," Sunshine faux scoffed, rising to her feet and beelining for the sink, where she lathered her hands up to her elbows.

"Oh, you don't have to tell me," Happy whispered to himself, closing the backdoor.

"Do you want me to scan the building for more woodland creatures that might be waiting to jump out at you?" Happy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Haha," she wrinkled her nose.

"I'm pretty sure I saw a hummingbird fly by the window earlier. Do you want me to make sure he's not hiding in the drawers?"

"Get out of my kitchen," Sunshine said without hesitation, whipping the towel she was using at his chest.

He caught it with a grin.

"You always going to come running when I'm even remotely distressed?" she teased back, picking up the bowls off the floor.

"Yes," he answered honestly.

"Aww," she grinned at him. "My very own knight in biker leather."

Happy didn't let on of how strangely proud the title made him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to that pretty white dove that Jax so cruelly ran over with his bike in season six. I really didn't appreciate that scene.


	7. Quick to Rise and Easy to Surprise

"Uncle Happy," Abel looked up at him from his pile of sand, frowning.

"Hmm?" he answered, snatching a rock out of Thomas' mouth. The baby gave an indignant scream before grabbing the sand shovel and making _an absolute mess._

"Will I get a motorcycle too when I'm big like you and dad?"

"Of course," he agreed instantly, something that would have gotten him swatted in the back of the head if Tara was around.

"I want to drive mommy around like dad does," he dumped the playground sand out of the dump truck he was playing with and then promptly turned on Happy, narrowing his far too clever eyes at him.

"How come you don't drive the girls around on your bike?"

'The girls' was the affectionate name he had given to the croweaters that often watched him, and no one ever fought him on the title.

"Oh," Happy blinked at the four (almost five, he let everyone in a ten-foot radius know that he was on the verge of being five) year old that was smarter than Half-Sack on nearly every day of the week.

"Do you not like them?"

"I like them," he defended, twisting the sifter in his hand, picking the tiny pebbles out of the mesh. He wasn't sure why he was being defensive against a _toddler_ , but he couldn't help that the boy was too smart for him to handle.

Abel frowned at him. "Do they smell bad? Mom says I have to take baths, or people won't want to be my friends at school,"

Happy grinned at him, the special kind that was reserved just for the boys.

"They smell fine,"

The boy quirked up the side of his mouth as he thought, swapping the colander in Happy's hands with the shovel he had been using, sifting sand into the downright filthy plastic dump truck.

"It's because you don't love them like mommy and daddy do, right?"

Happy looked away from Thomas, under the assumption that the conversation had been dropped, considering it was more than five minutes later.

Crystal clear blue eyes stared him down; his Paw Patrol hoodie and light up shoes didn't do much to match the age in his eyes.

"Yeah," Happy sighed. He wasn't sure how the kid had popped the nail so accurately on the head when he, the adult, hadn't worked it out for himself yet.

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Wanna watch me do a backflip?" he asked excitedly, dropping the toys back into the sandpit.

Before Happy could open his mouth and say that it probably wasn't the best idea, Abel tucked his head between his knees and executed perhaps the worst somersault that Happy had ever scene, sprawling out flat on his back, grinning dopily up at the biker.

"That was amazing," Happy laughed, pulling out his phone to take a video. "Do it again so I can show your dad,"

Abel bounced to his feet and repeated the same unorganized tangle of toddler limbs and poor balance, much to Happy's entertainment.

* * *

It wasn't that Abel didn't often have thought-provoking things to say, such as 'Why is Tiggy like that?' and 'Is Bobby actually Elvis?', it's just that his observations had never followed Happy after he walked away from the toddler. But now, it was all he could think of.

Someone in Jury's crew had gotten out of the joint, and the party had been _exceptionally_ obnoxious. Some of the details were a bit blurry, but there had definitely been fireworks and a skid steer involved. And he didn't really know if he had been the one driving it.

The girls that had shown up had caused Bobby to grab his shoulder and say 'God above; it must be Christmas,'

When Hap had pointed out the fact that he was Jewish, he was brushed off.

It's been established that Happy is a scoundrel, hooligan, and deeply flawed individual, so it was no surprise that he had found himself wrapped around a croweater as the night wrapped up. She was smokey-eyed and dark; the thick black hair that spilled down her back itched something in the back of Happy's mind, something that could have been recognition if he had been in even the vicinity of sober. 

But she smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap perfume when he was expecting sugar and peaches, and it didn't take him long to lose his foothold.

Suddenly profoundly overwhelmed, he fought against the fingers trying to pull off his pants and sat up, almost falling off the bed in his scramble backward.

"Baby, where you going?" she asked, sitting up.

"Sorry, can't do this," Happy mumbled, wondering why he was giving her an explanation.

She was quiet for a moment as he looked for his shirt that had been tossed somewhere in the room.

"It's because I'm not her, right?" she asked, not judging, simply asking.

"Yeah," he croaked out, not sober enough to process the implications of any of this.

He sat heavily on the foot of the bed, instantly dizzy and unsure. His shirt took the brunt of the force where it hung from his hands, knuckles white with the force of his grip.

The bed shifted as the woman crawled closer until she sat on the edge of the bed next to him, close but not enough to touch him.

"Why aren't you with her?" she asked gently, invisible in the dark.

"Didn't really know I wanted her until she wasn't you," he shrugged.

"She's too," he reached for the right word, turning over liquor-soaked dictionaries in his mind to find it. "Soft, for this life. I'm too hard for hers."

"Your Venn diagrams don't intersect," the woman offered, sounding every bit as intoxicated as he felt, and he nodded, not realizing that she couldn't see him in the dark.

"Except over pie," he added after too much time had passed.

"I'm sorry, you know. It hurts when you can't get who you want,"

Jameson and the blunt Juice had passed him argued in his mind, and he turned his head in the direction of the woman.

"Are you talking about me?"

"No, sweetheart, my heart was broken a long time before I found you,"

Emotion boiled in his chest as he reached out blindly for her, hand bumping her thigh and elbow before locking their fingers together, squeezing tighter than he probably ought to have.

He flopped back onto the bed without preamble, the woman joining him, still not close enough to touch, but kept holding his hand.

"I really don't like sleeping alone," she whispered, thumb tracing his knuckles.

"Me either."

Sleep pulled at his limbs, pulling him down into the still made bed, the calming presence of a warm body giving him a sense of security that wasn't there when he was alone.

"Happy?"

"Yeah?" His body felt miles away from his head.

"Just try with her, okay? It'll break your heart if you let her slip away. It's better to break for trying than breaking because you didn't."

"Okay," he whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek, unseen in the dark.

* * *

"Didn't think you'd be coming this week," Sunshine said in lieu of a greeting, already grinning at him.

Happy was punched in the face with the smell of the diner, her smile, and every word the woman had whispered to him in the dark.

He hadn't even learned her name.

If Sunshine noticed his almost scared expression, she said nothing as she disappeared to the back to get his pie.

There was only one occupied booth in the restaurant, which wasn't shocking considering it was after nine at night, a couple tucked into the corner booth where he usually sat.

They must have sensed his eyes on them because they threw a look his way, and he saw that it was two men, teenagers actually.

He pulled his gaze away and sat at the counter, feeling the urge to make it obvious that he didn't care what they were doing or who they were doing it with. It was an opinion that he didn't get to share often without starting a brawl, except when he endlessly called Venus every female pronoun or endearment he get away with without Tig knocking his teeth out.

Venus, of course, adored every second.

"I had babysitting duty tonight, that's why I'm so late," Happy offered when Sunshine gave him his plate.

"Oh?" she prompted, pouring him a coffee in the cup she always gave him, a Halloween themed mug with the grim reaper on it. Happy found it hilarious, Sunshine always some degree of smug as she set it in front of him.

Happy didn't show off pictures of the boys like a doting father, mostly because he was hardly an uncle, but he didn't hesitate as he pulled out his phone, showing her a picture of Abel and Thomas.

Sunshine plucked the phone from his fingers as she devoured the photo, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.

"They're beautiful, Hap."

The _thank you_ was halfway out of his mouth before something clicked in his head.

"They're not mine; they're my friends' kids," he took the phone back and found a picture of Abel on a bike with his dad.

At this rate, he might as well show her every picture he had.

"Oh."

"I don't have kids," Happy explained needlessly. He didn't speak normal amounts already, so one could imagine how alarmed he was when he found himself speaking needlessly.

The couple in the corner booth laughed, and the two glanced at them.

"Ah," Sunshine sighed, leaning her full hip against the counter, a movement that would be eternally distracting to him. "To be young and in love." Something in her posture and the way she said it challenged Happy to disagree or argue, but he nodded and licked his fork.

Seemingly satisfied, Sunshine walked around the counter to the couple, speaking them to sweetly and refilling their coffees.

"Oh, him?" he heard and kept his head facing forward so he wouldn't let them know he heard them.

"He's my friend; you don't have to worry about him," she placated, and the squirming feeling of delight at being labeled her friend was canceled out by the dread of the couple being worried about him and his potential actions.

So he sat in a jumbled stew of emotions.

There was a clock on the wall, an old thing that had seen the death of the dinosaurs, and Happy wondered if it worked because the diner felt like it was in a bubble in which no time passed at all.

The first and last time he had taken hallucinogenics with Tig, he had been able to feel eons stretch between each heartbeat, and he had hated every second that had crawled by.

But this wasn't even close to the feeling; it was like a good dream haze of slightly altered reality.

When the young couple got up to leave and came to the counter to pay, Happy did something he hadn't done since he was eight years old.

He deliberately turned to face the strangers and smiled at them. It wasn't the vicious smile he used on those he was trying to intimidate, the one he used for the boys and Sunshine.

The gentler looking of the two smiled back brightly.

 _Jesus fuck, this place is turning me into a pushover;_ he drowned the thought with a gulp of coffee.

"Where's Jim?" It was probably a little late to ask the question, considering he had been sitting at the counter for close to half an hour when he realized the man wasn't around. It wasn't Happy's fault that Jim's personality and ambiance couldn't shine a light on Sunshine's.

"He had a dialysis treatment; those usually knock him out for the rest of the day,"

"I didn't know he was sick,"

"He hides it well. He got blown up pretty bad in Vietnam, and it's finally coming to get him."

The menus she was wiping down were ignored as she gnawed her lip, staring off at the wall.

Happy regretted bringing it up. Piney and JT had been in the war, he wondered for a second if he should drop their names, but they hadn't brought up his affiliation to the MC yet, other than her clever use of a reaper mug. Acknowledged and discussed were _very_ different things.

The door chimed open, giving Sunshine the distraction she needed.

Happy's phone beeped at the same time, so he paid little attention to the new person. If it was Gemma and he didn't reply, he'd probably get disowned.

The new customer mumbled something to Sunshine, the call on his phone taking importance over eavesdropping, and he turned his head to listen closer.

"Hey, brother," Chibs started.

The sound of a bullet sliding into place clicked in the air, yanking Happy's attention away from his phone.

"I said to put the money in the bag," the man said, louder this time.

A matte black Glock pointed straight at Sunshine's head from across the counter.

Happy had the barrel of a gun pressed between his eyes before, his temple, the back of his head. He'd seen guns being pulled on his brothers, had been pistol-whipped and shot more than once.

So it was more than instinct than coherent thought that directed his actions, but then again, when wasn't it?

In one fluid movement, he lunged at the hooded man, gripping his wrist and ripped down his arm.

Shock was a good deterrent against retaliation, and it worked on his side as he yanked the gun from the man's hand.

"Hey!" he yelled and made to reach for Happy. He didn't make it very far.

The crack of the gun in such a small area was deafening, but the sound was too familiar to Happy. The bullet found a home in the mugger's foot, and he toppled like Abel's sand tower.

"Oh my god, did you just shoot him?" Sunshine squawked, louder than necessary, because her hands were still clapped over her ears.

"Yeah, now call the police," Happy instructed, probably the first time in his life that he had said that sentence. He was adventurous, but not enough to want to say it again.

The kid that was writhing on the ground couldn't be any older than twenty, scratched open scabs dotting the backs of his hands, signaling his addiction.

"You shot me," he wailed repeatedly.

Happy looked down at the gun still in his hands, and he quickly slid out the clip and tossed it to the counter, and set the gun next to it.

"You tried to rob my friend; of _course_ I shot you," he tossed the man a dirty look.

He wasn't worth the bullet in his foot, and for a second Happy scrambled to comprehend the possible repercussions of his actions but settled quickly when he heard Sunshine's scared voice from the kitchen talking to the police.

She was worth the bullet. Again and again, she was worth it.

His hammering heart calmed even as the police sirens pulled into the parking lot and five officers swarmed in.

He was so infinitely thankful that he had forgotten his own piece in the clubhouse, sitting on a top shelf where no little grabby hands could snatch it while the three of them had been playing.

The officers' guns had hesitated for a few seconds too long over Happy, but he didn't take it too personally. He _was,_ after all, a convicted felon who had just shot someone.

It wasn't the good sort of endless time anymore, now it was sluggish and full of anxious energy as Sunshine showed the police the footage of the only camera in the diner, and Happy watched over their shoulder.

He couldn't help the relief when it was glaringly obvious that he had shot the man when it had been apparent that he was going to attack him, and how quickly Happy had discarded the gun.

One of the officers was from Charming PD, and she was on the MC payroll. She continuously downplayed Happy's involvement and boosted the action as nothing less than heroic, and between the late hour and the caterwauling perp, the other officers offered no argument.

Pictures were taken, and evidence was bagged. Happy and Sunshine gave their information.

The ambulance pulled onto the road while Sunshine and Happy watched, sitting on the concrete steps that led into the diner. His call back to Chibs wasn't enough to satisfy the Scot, but Happy didn't really care. Sunshine had to call Jim and tell him, and then her sister to come to pick her up. She was shaking too hard to hold a steering wheel.

Happy was as steady as he had ever been, but that was his problem.

"That was intense," Sunshine offered, leaning to bump his shoulder.

Happy laughed and pulled his packet of Marlboros from his vest pocket.

Sunshine took the newly lit cigarette without a word, drawing the smoke in her lungs without a catch.

"I used to smoke in high school," the smoke lazily wisped around her lips in a way that made Happy strangely jealous. "Then my mom caught me..." she passed it back to Happy.

"Moms are good at seeing things they aren't supposed to," Happy agreed, a little too excited at the notion that her lips had touched the cigarette.

Sunshine scooted closer, plastering their sides together as she rested her head on his shoulder, the coarse hair on top of her head rubbing against his jaw.

"Thank you, Happy." She whispered.

It was a bit ridiculous that his heart was beating faster now than it was when he shot that man in the foot, but he didn't have the mental capacity at the moment to compartmentalize it as he slowly leaned his cheek against her head.

"I'm your knight in biker leather, remember?" he joked without the humor.

"Yeah," she said, burrowing a little closer, warm and soft and smelling like peaches. "You are."

The forgotten cigarette wasted away in Happy's hand as they watched the cars go by in the dark, twirling smoke disappearing into the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've already established that I'm doing what I want with this story, so I've aged Abel up like a year and a half but Thomas is still a baby.
> 
> I am also aware that this isn't how proper police procedure and I also don't care. This is my hobby, not my job, I'm not researching California law for this. Nope. I really don't think we'd appreciate the monotony of Happy getting arrested because that's boring and doesn't pertain to the plot. Sue me.


	8. Easy to Surprise and It's Easier to Tell Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does not take place in a set season, I'm just picking and choosing which cannon events I want in the story. I'm ignoring the big horrible tragedies because oh my god I can't handle all of them. There are so many.

"Dude, for real, you shot a mugger?" Jax said, throwing his arms wide.

Happy hadn't even gotten off his bike yet.

"Chibs told you?"

"Of course Chibs told me, he heard a gun go off and started freaking out,"

"Thought you were gettin' hurt, again," Chibs said, annoyed. At the same time, Tig pitched in with a,

"Aww, Chibs loves you,"

They were all staring at Happy.

"He pulled a gun on the waitress," he shrugged.

"So you shot him," Jax frowned.

"I disarmed him," Happy rolled his eyes, "And when he made to grab me, I popped him in the foot. A flesh wound, really,"

"You're lucky it was Eglee that came on the scene," Bobby said, shaking his head.

Hap shrugged again, not the least bit remorseful. He'd do it again.

"I think it'll be good for the club," Piney said, voice rocksalt and tequila. "Let's Charming know we're still protecting them, takes some heat off our back from the public."

They all nodded, already letting it go and moving on, but Jax didn't seem entirely convinced. About what, Happy didn't have a fucking clue, but it made his palms sweat.

He let out a surprised grunt as Chibs manhandled him into a fierce hug and thumped him on the back.

"Don't do that to me again, alright?"

"Yeah," he wheezed, unable to breathe under the Scot's grip.

One more hard knock to his back and Happy was set free, and he ducked into the clubhouse before Jax could corner him or make too much eye contact.

* * *

The diner was emptier than usual on a Monday afternoon, and Happy figured it was probably because of the shooting.

The usuals were flocked to the counters, sipping their coffees as he walked in, turning their wrinkled necks to look at him.

"The man of the hour!" one of them crowed. He had never bothered to learn any of their names, only recalling Jim's out of repeated use.

Happy looked away from the praise and was surprised to see that the tile that had been punctured had yet to be replaced. It was five days later; he would have assumed that Jim would have replaced it, the diner was clearly from the fifties, but nothing had fallen apart under the man's caretaking.

"Are you keeping the bullet hole?"

"It's a good conversation starter," Jim said, bushy eyebrow arched. Jim had done his thanking when he had come to the diner the night of the mugging. It had been a firm handshake and an intense shared look.

And now, thankfully, he was back to being a borderline bully to the biker. Happy was relieved, he liked this dynamic just fine.

"What kind of gun was it?" One of the men asked, swiveling in their seats to talk to him. He had forgotten that they were Veterans and old men, a combination that always meant that they loved guns.

It made him impossibly uncomfortable.

"45 Glock,"

The gaggle made affirming noises amongst themselves.

"You good with guns, Hap?" another questioned, his _everything_ giving him the impression that he was the grandfather to at least twelve kids.

Happy scratched at the patch on his cut that said "Men of Mayhem."

"You could say that,"

Sunshine, always amazing and especially so for interrupting the no doubt horrible direction that the conversation was about to go down, turned the corner out of the kitchen, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Her purposeful step faltered when she saw Happy, giving him a shy grin, before ducking past him.

"Today is the day, my friends," she turned around and pointed at her mouth, walking backward to the door.

"I'm getting my braces off today; after four years of orthodonture hell, they're coming off,"

She grinned wide, showing all her teeth, index fingers poking her dimples.

"Say goodbye; they're never coming back!"

A chorus of good lucks and goodbyes erupted from the dining room, and she waved as she stepped out the door, all but skipping to her car.

Happy wasn't sure how he had expected their relationship to change since he had saved her life; he hadn't actually given it much thought; he knew he wasn't owed anything for saving her.

Happy remembered the first time someone had killed someone for him, and though he didn't kill the mugger, he was trying to relate. Chibs had put down the skinhead before Happy even knew he was in danger, and try as he might, he felt odd around the Scotsman for a while.

So he decided that he wouldn't be put off by the extra blanket of bashfulness that had swept up Sunshine; she was just trying to process it all. It wasn't her fault that it was just a normal day for Happy to cause bodily harm to someone.

"You still want food even though she's not here?" Jim asked, taking a cheeky sip of coffee as he watched Happy's face.

The joke was on him; he had a damn fine poker face.

"Yeah, but I'm not tipping you a twenty,"

"Good, and I won't make goo-goo eyes at you while you eat," Jim stood up to get the food, old body creaking.

"She doesn't make goo-goo eyes at me," Happy denied, lip curling at the word and whatever the fuck it meant.

The men around the counter snorted and tsked their tongues.

"You were named after the wrong seven dwarves, son, should've been called dopey," Jim scolded, pulling a pie out from the case.

Happy bristled.

"Every time she hears one of those deathtraps on the road, she damn near breaks her neck to see if it's you pullin' in the parking lot,"

This was news to Happy.

Jim slid the plate across the counter, without the ice cream and cold, and braced his hands on the counter.

Happy must have looked as internally conflicted as he felt because the old man took pity on him and sighed.

"She likes you, kid, don't know why, but she does. And she intends on keeping you too; she doesn't just reserve mugs for anyone,"

Harold triumphantly held up his mug with Eyore on it, showing Happy that he was one of the select few.

These were a lot of emotions to process, and he didn't do that so good on his own, let alone with an audience, so he grabbed his pie and walked to his corner booth.

For the first time in his life, Happy wished he had a moral compass. He had been doing just fine without one, even if it meant that the fairer sex always left after the sun came up, and he wasn't sure he could keep even a goldfish alive. The only reason the (only) houseplant he had survived more than a month was because Gemma occasionally broke into his house and watered it.

He used the term 'broke in' lightly; he didn't give her a key; she made one for herself and used it whenever she pleased.

Of course Sunshine liked him; they were friends. She had said as much the other night to that couple in the corner. Friends _liked_ each other; that was the point. Jim must not know what he's talking about.

She didn't do anything the croweaters did when they wanted his attention, didn't flip her hair or cock out her hip, didn't laugh at every unfunny thing he said, didn't reach out and touch him. The only times she had touched him were when she was thanking him for protecting her _because they were friends._

She did blush when he smiled at her, and he had caught her once or twice looking at his arms, and she called him her knight in biker leather, and he wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and maybe now was a good time to call Juice.

Happy couldn't really say that he missed it when he didn't have such complex emotions before meeting Sunshine. He didn't miss anything before he met Sunshine.

His life was now in two chunks, the _before_ he met her and the _after_.

And now that he was in the _after,_ he couldn't help but wonder how he had ever made it through the _before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super jazzed about how this one came out.  
> Do I not... know how to write anymore?  
> This is it, the death of my creativity. My dudes, I'm sorry. You deserve a better author than this, but I'm emotionally invested in this story, so I'm going to see it through to the end, but just keep in mind, I'm aware that it's mediocre at best.  
> Toodles.


	9. Easier to Tell Lies and Time to Stabilize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was getting better and weeding out what was inappropriate behavior and what wasn't, and though it still gave him some trouble, he didn't have to ask Juice as often as he used to.
> 
> And now, as he sat in front of Sunshine's house with a puppy that was trying to gnaw off his thumb, he wondered if now was a good time to call him. Abel had helped him pick out the pup, a brindle blue-eyed little girl that was already smarter than Half-Sack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter doesn't pass 'does the dog die'.

The great thing about living in Cali and having a motorcycle was that you never had to wait for the air conditioning to kick in. But contrarily, being part of the MC also meant black leather vests, which didn't feel all that good in the heat.

Happy never minded the heat; his childhood was spent in constant rain and drizzle; it took him years to shake the perpetual shiver, so the consistent dry heat had turned him into a sort of cat. Jax had called him a cat once, frowning at the man that sprawled out on his bike at the edge of the highway, a looming threat imminent. It was pretty accurate; he always seemed to situate himself in patches of sun and could doze damn near anywhere; it didn't have to be soft or even remotely horizontal. _Sleeping_ was a different story. Happy rarely slept. Ahh, such is the traumas of life.

Happy had never been a worrier; he knew that he couldn't control everything; it either happened or didn't. A side effect of that mentality was his extreme 'living in the moment' lifestyle that seldom planned for the future or cared enough to think that he had a future. Truth be told, he didn't think he would have made it to see his twentieth birthday, let alone his thirtieth. It also lent a hand to the unchecked aggression of his youth, (and who are we kidding, his current self too) the inability to see the future, sometimes reaching the point of failing to understand that there were repercussions to his actions. Hence the fact he had been expelled from two high schools and had been arrested eight different times.

And now, for the first time in his life, there was a tomorrow. Jax had asked him to pick Abel up from pre-k on Monday because the kid had downright _begged_ his dad to let him. It wasn't a secret to Happy that he didn't really belong in a schoolyard with kids. Abel, Thomas, and Opie's herd of children were the only kids that didn't run screaming from him. None of that had bothered him until he had gone grocery shopping with Gemma and Abel once, and Abel had seen a classmate who almost started crying he was so scared of Happy, which in turn, upset Abel. It had been a horrible excursion, and now he wore a hat when he was in public with the kids and avoided eye contact with any of their friends.

And now, there was the diner added to the 'tomorrow' too. It wasn't a reason to get up in the morning, he had never struggled with that, but it made a tomorrow more tangible.

 _Today, pie, tomorrow Abel, rinse, repeat,_ he thought to himself, pulling into the parking lot of the diner.

It was only fitting that a pair of crows carked down at him from the tall pines that were scattered around the building, feathers ruffled and eyes beady.

He battled the urge to bark back up at them; after all, crows recognize crows.

Cozy food smells filled him as he stepped in the door, and even though the air conditioning was blasting, it didn't even come close to bothering him.

Something was a little off, those were his refined hitman senses kicking in, and as he stepped further into the building, Jim walked out of the kitchen.

"Sorry, son," he said as he carried the plate to Harold at the counter, leaning his hands against the old hardtop, leveling his stoney eyes at Happy. "She's not here today; you're stuck with us today,"

The angry part of Happy wanted to defend himself and say that he wasn't just here for Sunshine, but the other part, the one that was thankfully becoming more dominant with his age, understood that he wasn't _really_ coming back just for the pie.

"Still want that pie?" A bored voice asked from behind the counter.

"Yes," he stared down Melody. She was a loathsome creature, fifteen years old if a day, with the customer service capabilities of an escaped convict and an attitude to match.

She rolled her eyes and popped her ever-present bubble gum.

Jim looked conflicted, disappointed in the teenager for sassing a customer, but smug that it was Happy on the receiving end.

"Sorry about her," he grunted.

"I like her," Happy approved. He hadn't often wondered what Tig and Gemma's offspring would look like, but he figured it'd be Melody.

"Sunshine is the only one that can make her something like a human, and I'm not even going to try," Jim sighed, arthritic palm rubbing over his balding head.

"Where is she today? More orthodontics?" Happy asked, trying to sound as casual as he could, accepting the coffee from Jim.

"No, uh, her dog died. She took a few days off,"

Well, that was not an answer Happy would have hoped for. Without meaning to, his eyes flicked to the picture on the wall of her with a puppy, and he remembered how she couldn't take the pigeon home because her dog would eat it.

"It was a, uh, basset hound, wasn't it?"

Jim frowned at him. "How'd you know that?"

"We talk," he shrugged. He wasn't going to let on that he retained more information about Sunshine than what was probably a friendly amount.

"Yeah, a basset hound. Abestoso. She loved that dog more than anything. It was one of the only things she brought with her when she moved up here from Mississippi," Jim mused, looking out the window, caught in a memory.

He frowned at the biker when he realized he was caught reminiscing, jaw snapping shut.

"Is she okay?" He knew _he_ wouldn't be okay if he lost his dog, whom he had affectionately named Onion. He could remember what it was like when he was a kid, and the memory was enough.

Jim sighed, evidently wishing he could walk away from the conversation.

"She will be, she always is."

He then walked away, and Happy liked the way Jim ended conversations and hated small talk. Happy liked Jim.

Melody dropped off his pie, which was upside down on his plate but hadn't appeared to be dropped on the floor, and told him that he was going to get ridiculous tanlines from his helmet. Happy told her that she lost a brain cell every time she chewed a new piece of gum.

Melody grimaced at him and walked away.

He wouldn't admit it under duress (he had never revealed anything under coercion), but he liked the mean little waitress too.

As he ate his pie that wasn't as good as when Sunshine brought it to him, Happy made a plan.

* * *

"Can I have one of your puppies?"

"You don't need another dog; you have Onion," Tig squinted at him, an intimidating look for a lesser person, even considering he had a puppy chewing on the end of his nose.

"It's for a friend,"

"You don't have friends, Happy,"

"Alexander," Venus admonished; the puppy in her lap was behaving wonderfully, unlike the four that were literally ripping off the leg of Tig's jeans.

Abel giggled somewhere to Happy's left, and he assumed that he, too, was covered in puppies.

"I'm sure he didn't mean that, Happy," Venus soothed.

"Oh no, I definitely did," Tig retorted, only quieting when Venus' perfectly manicured hand rested on top of his unruly mop of curls.

"Tell us about your friend," 

Happy had made it perfectly clear, multiple times, that he would pick Venus over Tig any day of the week.

"They just lost their dog that they've had since they were a kid," he knew that he was treading a line using genderneutral pronouns, but he wasn't all that ready to share Sunshine with the MC yet.

Venus clucked her tongue and lamented how unfortunate that was, not prying more about his relationship with the friend. Because she was a lady, and Happy never loved her more.

"So it's not a serial killer looking for an attack dog," Tig asked, grinning a little when Venus pulled his hair.

"No. Just a pet."

Tig mused over it, watching in amusement as a wildly giggling Abel was taken down by the 'piranhas,' as the kid called them.

He hadn't known that the dog he had rescued from the fighting ring was pregnant when he had scooped her up and brought her home, but now ten puppies had taken control of his house and yard.

Jezabelle was lounging in the house, glad to let the humans babysit while she closed her eyes for a few minutes.

"You trust this alleged friend enough to take care of one of my pups?" Piercing blue eyes stabbed at Happy, itching for a reason to refuse him.

"Yes."

"Ugh, fine. But make sure the pup gets fixed and vaccinated," he grumbled, leaning into Venus' touch. With a loud rip, the puppies that had been working at the hole in the knee of his jeans, had detached the leg and were pulling it off his foot.

Happy and Venus laughed gruffly and politely respectfully.

"Monsters, all of you," Tig said, almost in awe, laying down into the mass of wiggling butts and sharp teeth as if it were a baptism.

* * *

"Big Jim's diner, what can I put in your mouth today?"

Happy stifled his laugh as he heard Jim chastise _'Melody, you know that's not the slogan,'_

"Is Sunshine in today?"

"No, she's not. Can I take a message?"

"Oh, uh," Happy looked down at the puppy currently pinned under Onion. The dog was a little too old for the shenanigans of a puppy, and when he had enough of its antics, the elder dog had wrestled the pup to the floor where she was now sound asleep, curled against his chest.

"Could you tell me when she gets back in?"

"Why? What do you want with her?" Melody snapped, defensive. Happy was unsure of the relationship between the teenager and Sunshine, but it went beyond that of a waitress and her superior.

"Melody, it's me, Happy," he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, suddenly regretting every decision he had made this week.

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes."

"Ugh," the teenager groaned in disgust. "Why do you want to talk to her so bad? She's not that interesting,"

"Because friends check in on one another," Happy bit back.

"Sure, friends,"

"Can you just hand the phone to Jim?"

"And give up my position of power over you? No way," she laughed, a capricious and a bit evil sound.

"What do you want?" Happy sighed, ready to negotiate. This wasn't his first time dealing with terrorists, and he knew that Melody would give the IRA a run for their money.

"A gun," 

"No. You're twelve."

"You're absolutely no fun. Fine, I want you to convince Sunshine that I'm old enough to get my belly button pierced."

Happy deliberated for a second. "I can try," he offered.

"Or you could give me a tattoo," she tempted. "I don't want something as stupid as a snake on my head, but-"

"Didn't I say that I was friends with Sunshine? I don't want her to hate me,"

"God, adults fucking suck," she grumbled.

"So can you tell me when she gets back to work?" Happy asked, the conversation already exhausting him.

"I don't know when she gets back, and I don't wanna play this boring as fuck back and forth with you anymore, so I'm giving you her cell number, and you're leaving me out, alright? You can give me a toast at your wedding or whatever, but remember to tell her, are you listening? Write this down," 

Happy would throttle her if he weren't finding every word out of her mouth hilarious.

"Tell her that I'm _mature_ and _responsible_ enough for one, use those words exactly, and whatever you do, do not bring up the lemonade incident or Kelly Matthis, alright?"

"Deal," he agreed, not having a clue what the lemonade incident was or who the hell Kelly Matthis was.

Melody gave him her number and a threat.

"If you use this number for evil or any level of malevolence," he raised his eyebrows; he didn't think she'd know that word, "I will cut your bike tires and your throat, understand?"

"Yeah, I understand," he was impressed; not many had the gall to threaten a member of the MC, let alone Happy.

"Okay, good, remember, _mature_ and _responsible,_ "

"I got it, Melody, and thank-"

She hung up on him.

He'd be mad if it weren't so damn funny.

* * *

"Hello?"

Happy was swiftly disgustingly nervous, and he almost hung up the phone. It shouldn't go unnoticed that the _Tacoma Killer_ was nervous about calling a girl.

"It's Happy," he said instead of a greeting because he wasn't sure how to talk anymore.

"Oh. Hi, Hap," Sunshine greeted, sounding every bit as surprised as she ought to.

He was silent for a moment too long, and Sunshine filled the gap.

"Is something wrong?"

"No,"

"Oh. How did you, uh, how'd you get my number?" She asked tentatively, but not as though she didn't want him to have it.

"Melody gave it to me, said she didn't want to play middleman when I asked her when you were coming back," he said, too quickly.

Sunshine laughed quietly. She sounded tired and a little nasally as if she had been crying.

"What did she ask for in return?"

"I'm not a rat," Happy defended, smiling. _Of course_ she knew that Melody had an angle on him.

"Unrelated, I think she's mature and responsible enough to get her belly button pierced, and it has nothing to do with lemonade or Kelly Matthis," Happy said, almost crossing his fingers.

 _Sunshine laughed_ this time, to his relief, the boundless sort that filled every empty space and made Happy feel like he was glowing.

"I'm sorry she made you ask that," she said, a few chuckles still escaping.

"I'm not. She's a smart kid,"

"Too smart, sometimes," Sunshine sighed, and Happy forgot what the phone call was about for a few seconds. He found himself sinking into the counter at just the sound of her voice, posture relaxing in a way that he hadn't even known he was tense.

The puppy twitched in its sleep, pulling Happy back to reality.

"Jim told me about Abestoso," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

There was a muffled sniffle on the other end of the line.

"Thank you."

"I, uh," he skimmed his hand over his head, wishing for hair to nervously yank on for the first time since he buzzed it off when he was twenty-three. "I have something for you; I think it might help,"

"You got me something?" Her voice sounded exasperated and clogged, like she had started crying again. "You didn't have to do that, Hap,"

"I wanted to," he shrugged to his empty kitchen. "Do you think I could maybe bring it to you?"

"I'll be back in a few days," she reassured.

"It's not, um, something that'll last a few more days in my house," he responded sheepishly, well, as sheepish as Happy could get.

"Did you make me a pie, Happy?" she asked, smile audible through her tear thickened voice.

"Better,"

"Okay." She exhaled, tired, but a little less sad.

Her address wasn't too far from the diner, and Happy wasted no time in loading up the car he was borrowing from Gemma. Bless her heart; she had already claimed one of Tig's puppies as her own, so she didn't complain when he set the brindled ball of energy in the passenger seat. She simply asked if she would get to meet 'the girl that's got you smitten' one day, and he said maybe, and it was enough to sate her.

* * *

He was getting better and weeding out what was inappropriate behavior and what wasn't, and though it still gave him some trouble, he didn't have to ask Juice as often as he used to.

And now, as he sat in front of Sunshine's house with a puppy that was trying to gnaw off his thumb, he wondered if now was a good time to call him. Abel had helped him pick out the pup, a brindle blue-eyed little girl that was already smarter than Half-Sack.

The house was dark blue and quaint; if Happy was the type of person to use the word quaint, one car garage and flower boxes overflowing with vivacious flowers, it was the type of place he always thought was the divine right of the unbroken.

"Ready?" He asked the puppy, her blue eyes blinking innocently as if his thumb wasn't in her mouth.

Everything about the house was cheery and welcoming; even the doormat said 'Friends Always Welcome!', and Happy couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised. That's just who Sunshine was.

The door rattled under his knock, and he was too nervous to wince.

Just as he was about to do it again, he saw a tangle of curly black hair through the stained glass pane, and Sunshine opened the door.

Her eyes were swollen from crying, puffy and red and bloodshot. Her usual crisp outfit was shunned in favor of sweatpants and a hoodie advertising a college from Stockton.

Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the wriggling pup in his arms. The dog was desperately trying to get closer to Sunshine, contorting its small body in Happy's hold and whining loudly.

Carefully, she took the squirming creature from him and clutched it to her chest, the puppy gladly licking her whole face and snuffling its blunt nose into her hair.

Sunshine promptly burst into tears.

Happy froze. He didn't know how to deal with this. When the little boys cried, they could be consoled with gentle words and a pat on the back or handing them off to the nearest competent adult, but Happy didn't know what to do when the competent adult was the one crying. No one ever came to him crying; an upset Gemma found Chibs or Nero to unload her ails on, the croweaters could take care of themselves or brought a problem up to Jax.

Happy was so far out of his element that he wanted to run away or maybe tell her to stop.

The puppy took no offense as Sunshine set her on the floor; she took off into the house to explore, leash trailing behind her as she turned a corner.

Sunshine was still crying as she wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking her face up into his neck.

She was warm, Happy noticed when the initial shock wore off, not like the stifling sun overhead, but like blankets during a thunderstorm.

Carefully, he looped his arms around her shoulders, keeping his hold loose for when she wanted to break away, but in the meantime, Happy was determined to savor it.

She smelled amazing, but not as she did at the restaurant, but like laundry detergent and honey, her body impossibly soft under his grip.

"Thank you, Happy," she mumbled against the skin of his neck, shivers wracking his body at the sensation.

"It's just a puppy," he shrugged.

"No, it's not just a puppy."

She was right; it wasn't. He just wasn't sure what else it could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was done writing this, I held my pup for a long time. He didn't enjoy it.  
> I renamed Happy's dog because in this story **SPOILER ALERT!!!*** Opie isn't dead so he can't have a dog named after him, that'd be a level of weird that I don't want to explore.  
> A note to cover my own ass, I'm not implying that the IRA is a terrorist organization, it was a joke. Please don't come after me.


	10. Time to Stabilize and Meet the Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Grammarly crashed and I almost lost this chapter, thank god I didn't.

It was only two hours to Indian Hills, less considering it practically in the MC's bylaws to drive like the hounds of hell are after you. The trip was simply a routine visit to see Jury, check on business in Nevada, and get into general mischief. SAMCRO was _startling_ adept at getting into trouble.

"I'm starving," Tig announced as they made their way to their bikes.

Happy didn't make it a habit of listening to Tig when he spoke, so he tuned out most of the conversation until he heard his name.

"Hap, that diner that you always go to, it's on the way to Indian Hills, isn't it?"

Six pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, unsure of where the conversation was heading. He hadn't been paying attention.

"Great, we can just stop there for lunch on our way out," Tig slammed his helmet on his head and straddled his bike.

Too many emotions catapulted against Happy's insides, and he stared dumbly at his friends as they got on their bikes. Of course, he wanted to go to the diner; he'd live in the broom closet if Jim let him. But he still wasn't sure if he was ready to share his haven, and more importantly, Sunshine.

The decision was made for him as Jax started his bike and began pulling out of the compound, and he bit back his shout of disagreement.

He still had Sunshine's number; maybe he could call and warn her.

* * *

The volume of the bikes when they traveled together had never made Happy self-conscious; Happy didn't _get_ self-conscious. But as they roared into the parking lot of the diner, he wanted to dampen the sound of the motors, wanted to apologize to the judging pines for the noise.

Happy supposed that he could have led them to a different diner; Jax probably didn't remember the name from all those weeks ago; he could've made it work.

But there was a little thrill in this, a bashful sort of pleasure of getting to introduce the two halves of his life, that maybe they'd get along, and he'd for once get it all.

The thought picked up his dragging feet, and he followed Piney through the door. The club's macabre tones violently clashed with the vintage ambiance; Happy was nervous to the point that he was using words like _ambiance_ and _macabre_. He had never bothered to ask if the diner served alcohol, but today might be the day.

"So this is where you spend all your free time," Jax teased, looking around the dining area. It was a little concerning how quickly he bristled to defend the restaurant, but the men were quiet.

"Welcome to Big Jim's Diner; what can I put in your mouth today?" Melody piped up from behind the counter, earning chuckles.

 _"Melody,"_ Jim barked from the back room, promptly ignored by the teenager.

"Sunshine, your biker is here," Melody called over her shoulder to the kitchen, popping her gum hostilely at Happy. He couldn't _all_ the exchanged looks tossed between his brothers, but he saw enough that his palms started itching.

Sunshine bustled out of the kitchen, chastening Melody with a look as she turned to face them, a hospitable smile on her face until she took in the group amassed around Happy.

He wondered if they were seeing her the way that he did, and he hoped that they didn't. Today her hair was curled in a million little twists that burst from her head with a few halfhearted pins keeping it from getting too far away from her; pens still shoved wherever they could fit. Her freckles were still speckled across her nose and round cheeks, full lips parted in a smile that showed off hard-earned straight teeth. He wondered if they could _see_ how her body was made for kindness, soft and round and gentle, and the best hugger in the world. He thought a lot about that hug.

He had only been back to the diner once since he had handed her the puppy, and though they didn't stay up all night talking, he figured that this is the closest thing he'd ever had to a best friend.

"Table for..." She took a headcount of the men surrounding him. "Seven?"

"Aye," Chibs said.

"Hey, is that a bullet hole in the floor?" Tig asked, pointing down at the linoleum tile he was scuffing with his boot. He glanced up to Happy and grinned. "Is that from when you shot that mugger?"

"Jim won't fix it," Happy sighed, still not entirely understanding the point of keeping it.

"That is badass, man,"

Happy grumbled at him and walked to his spot.

The seven of them crammed in the corner booth and the closest table. There was a lot of jostling and grunting as they got situated, Tig threatening to cut off Juice's ears if he got any closer and Piney telling them to behave.

"Don't even bother with the menus," Happy said as Sunshine turned to grab them.

"Hey, man, I'm so hungry I could eat Bobby," Tig said, pointing at his friend that raised an eyebrow.

"Challenge accepted, sweetheart," he waggled his eyebrows at Tig.

"Don't tempt me, darlin',"

"They're all having peach pie," Happy continued as if the back and forth between the tables wasn't happening.

Sunshine smiled at him, a shy, genuine thing that did funny things to Happy's heart.

"Anything else?"

Tig glowered at Happy for deciding for him.

"Wanna wipe my ass too, big guy?"

Happy turned his face back up to Sunshine, who was standing closer to him than anyone else, even though there was a perfectly neutral spot not two steps away. She watched the men with a look of bewilderment.

"Do you have any of the 'Better than Sex' left?"

Sunshine laughed, a burst of sweet noise.

"That's not what it's called,"

"I want that," Chibs said, smushed between Jax and Juice.

"Alright, how about I just bring a whole pie of both and fill in the blanks when we get there?" She offered, slipping her notepad into her apron pocket.

"Deal," Bobby said.

"Everyone want coffee?" she pivoted to see all the hands raising and nodded, a small smile permanently lifting the edge of her mouth.

"I'll get started on that," she glanced at Happy quickly before making her way to the kitchen.

"Better than sex?" Piney asked, beating the others to the punch, stern eyebrow raised at Happy.

"You'll understand when you eat it," Happy said, not needing to defend Sunshine's creations. Her baking could hold it's own in any argument.

Melody came with a tray full of mugs, and she set it none too gently on the booth in front of Happy.

Without preamble, Melody punched Happy in the shoulder.

"Ouch," Happy said in surprise.

All the men turned and stared at the teenage girl, all in varying degrees of shock and hilarity.

"I said NOT to mention the lemonade incident or Kelly Matthis, and you brought up _BOTH_?" She whisper yelled, and Happy rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah, but did it work?" he deflected, frowning at the fuming teen.

"Yes," she mumbled, as a squawking Sunshine lunged across the room at her.

"Oh my god, Melody, you can't just punch people," she chastised.

"It's just Happy," she mumbled, "They probably punch each other for fun,"

"You can't go around punching my friends," Sunshine growled.

"UGH," Melody groaned but walked away, turning on her heel behind Sunshine and flipping Happy off. He squinted at her but didn't reciprocate in fear of Sunshine seeing.

"Happy doesn't have friends," Tig joked, the look of amusement stolen right off his face as he remembered the last time he said that.

"Wait, hold on," he said, straightening up and cocked his head at the hitman.

"Is this the friend you were talking about? The one you gave my puppy to?"

Sunshine paused; the mugs she was handing out froze in her hand.

"Well," Tig said, appraising Sunshine slowly with his eyes. "She certainly isn't a serial killer looking for a new attack dog,"

Happy kicked him, hard, under the table.

"Oh, you're who he got Peaches from?" she asked. Happy's fingers tightened around the empty Grim Reaper mug in his hand. He was probably just thinking about it too hard; he wasn't all that familiar with thinking too hard. She liked peaches; why wouldn't she name her dog that. It probably had nothing to do with the fact that peach pie was the food he loved more than air and practically the only thing he ordered when he came in and that the parallels almost drew themselves.

She set the mugs on the table and fished her phone out of her pocket, and pulled up a picture of the puppy, turning the screen so Tig could see.

"She's such a good girl; she's already potty trained and knows more commands than my eight-year-old nephew," she joked easily.

Tig's eyes eagerly searched the picture for a reason to get upset and must have deemed what he saw good enough because he flashed the waitress a smile.

"I'm glad she found a home with someone like you," he said sincerely.

"Thank you," Sunshine responded, touched.

"Is that a reaper on your mug?" Juice asked, breaking the moment.

Happy twisted his cup for his brothers to see, showing off the cartoonish grim reaper.

"I thought it would be pretty fitting if I always gave him that one," Sunshine said, raising a shoulder in embarrassment, cheeks brightening in a delightful pink.

"Oh, man," Jax laughed, lips pulled back over perfect teeth, shaggy head shaking. "That's amazing," And for some reason, Happy couldn't help but think that he was talking about something else.

* * *

Coffee was poured, and the two types of pie were served, and the Sons did not disappoint with their reactions.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," Chibs mumbled the rest of the prayer under his breath, eyes fluttering shut.

"Jesus Christ," Piney agreed.

"No wonder you come and hide here," Jax stuffed another bite into his mouth.

Happy felt smugly proud at their feedback on behalf of Sunshine, and he figured that maybe showing them the diner wasn't that bad of an idea.

"I get it, calling it 'Better than Sex,'" Tig said, mouth full. "My brain can't handle what's happening right now,"

"I can't' believe you replaced my talents," Bobby lamented. "I thought I was the best baker, but," he stared down at his half-eaten pie, "I can't think of a single thing wrong with it. This is the best pie I've ever eaten."

"What I wanna know is," Opie asked, pointing a fork at Happy. "How can you still ride? If I knew about this place for as long as you have, I'd had to be strapped to the flatbed to get me around,"

"I don't think he comes here just for the pie, Ope," Jax teased, a mischievous but not malevolent look in his eye.

"The waitress is a right pretty lass," Chibs said, leaning back against the booth, grinning as he all but crushed Juice into the vinyl.

Tig physically recoiled, horrified. "Dude, she's like, twelve,"

"No, shit for brains," Piney growled. "The black girl,"

"Oh," Tig nodded, reaching for another piece of the pie.

"You make a move on her yet?" Opie asked, knocking aside Tig's hand to get another slice for himself.

"Bro, he got her a puppy; they're practically married," Juice piped up from partially underneath Chibs.

Happy glowered at all of them.

"She's my friend; none of you are allowed to be anything less than _religiously_ polite to her, got it? I've already shot someone for her, don't test me,"

Juice groaned as Chibs leaned across him to clap Happy on the shoulder, the Scot grinning wildly.

"I knew this day would come, Hap. I can't wait to you see you all domestic and settled down,"

"With a minivan and a sweater-vest," Opie mused.

"Head of the PTA," Bobby added, causing the men to laugh.

"I'm killing all of you in your sleep," Happy growled, grabbing the last piece of peach pie.

"Didn't take you very long to bring the rest of the riffraff with you," a new voice said, pulling their attention away from bullying Happy.

Jim stood a few feet away from their booth, arms cross but looking no grumpier than usual.

"We can bring the Nazis with us next time," Tig answered cheekily, licking his fork.

Jim sighed an impatient, paternal noise.

He turned away from the dumpster fire of a human and smirked at Happy.

"I'd apologize for Melody punching you, but I wish I had seen it,"

"She's got a good right hook," Happy shrugged.

"Foster care will do that to a kid,"

Happy didn't know that she was in foster care, he had never asked because it wasn't his business, but the girl's surly attitude made sense. To be taken away from a family in Charming meant the situation was _horrible._

"There's a good chance she'll take a swing at Hap again," Jax said, smiling at the proprietor. "He seems to have that effect on people,"

Jim snorted.

"Jim Byrne?" Piney asked, squinting at the man.

Jim leveled the look, and they could all but hear the cogs turning in his head.

"Piney Winston,"

"I haven't seen you since we were on our way home from Saigon," 

"You've aged like hell," Jim deadpanned, pulling a wheezing laugh from the elder Winston.

"Haven't changed a bit. Seems like your restaurant idea wasn't too bad,"

"Seems like JT wasn't kidding about the... motorcycle enthusiast group," Jim raised an eyebrow.

"John was a lot of things, but ambitionless wasn't one of them,"

"JIM!" Melody hollered from the back room. "PHONE! IT'S YOUR DAUGHTER!"

Jim nodded at Piney and walked back into the kitchen.

In less than thirty minutes, the seven of them put away four and a half pies; Sunshine let out an impressed whistle as she surveyed the carnage.

"Hope you all don't have somewhere to be,"

Tig, who was face down on the table, let out a sob.

"Oh my god, I have to get on my bike now,"

Piney patted him none too gently on the back.

"We can double up on mine, Tiggy,"

"Aww," he rolled to face the older man. "Really?"

"Beautiful Sunshine," Bobby started, "from one baker to another, this was absolutely divine, you have a true talent,"

"Oh my god," her hand rested over her heart. "Thank you, that means so much,"

Happy's eyes, _without a doubt,_ followed the path of her hand, and maybe a little lower. He didn't often show it, but he _was_ human, after all.

Nothing could get Bobby talking like baking could, and his eyes lit up like a kid's at Christmas while they talked about the best kind of organic cane sugar and something called 'tahini' and argued good-naturedly about whisking technique.

In less than six minutes, Bobby had Sunshine's phone in his hands, typing in his contact information so they could share recipes.

"Wow," Melody said, halfheartedly wiping down a neighboring booth. "It took Happy three months to get your number, and _he_ gets it in three minutes?"

The men around the booth chuckled, and Sunshine blushed, but it wasn't the sweet kind that made Happy feel fuzzy and warm.

" _You_ gave me her number," Happy tried to clarify but didn't make it any less uncomfortable for Sunshine.

"Yeah," the teenager sighed, looking at the older waitress in a look that could maybe be fond if you squinted and tilted your head.

"It's a damn cute puppy, so I guess it's not that bad of a thing,"

Tig mumbled something into the table about all his puppies being adorable, but it came out a garbled mess.

"Is he going to be okay?" Melody frowned at him.

"Only as good as Tigger can get," Jax replied, flashing the teenager one of his wild grins that had _her_ blushing. Jackson was good at this bit, the redirecting and dosing people with their own medicine, and if Happy were the kind of person to envy another for their social skills, he'd be jealous of the way that Jax seamlessly fixed Sunshine's embarrassment in a way that he himself had failed.

Happy was, in a word, overwhelmed by everything happening around him.

* * *

The half a pie leftover was carefully wrapped and stored in Piney's bike's side bag; the tab was taken care of by Jax, each man pitching in no less than a ten-dollar bill for the tip dropping it into Happy's expectant hand.

He could be a normal person and leave the tips on the table, but it has been well established that there was nothing normal about Happy, so he walked it up to the counter like usual.

"Peaches, huh?" He asked quietly so that no snoopy ears could overhear.

Sunshine glanced away from the pie rack she was rearranging and scrunched up her shoulders, avoiding eye contact.

"You don't like it?"

"No," he amended quickly, "I like it. A lot."

The width of her smile was staggering; Happy was unsure if he'd ever feel steady on his feet while being in the direct line of it; he wanted to ask if it hurt her cheeks.

"You're too sweet to me, Hap,"

"You're worth it," he shrugged, feeling a little itchy under the collar of his shirt.

"We're leaving," Bobby singsonged from the door.

Happy took two tens from the stack of bills in his hand, slapped them on the counter, and slid them to Melody.

"Let me know if you want to learn how to fight for real,"

Her eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Really," he handed the rest of the money to Sunshine and slipped out the door with his brothers.

"Call me crazy," Melody said, shoving the money in the pocket of her tattered jeans. "But I think he likes you,"

Sunshine gnawed on her bottom lip, heart staggering on the idea.

"Nonsense," she whispered.

"And I think you like him,"

"Go wash a table or something," Sunshine turned away from the girl so she wouldn't see the heat creeping up her neck at the very thought of it.

* * *

Of course, there was a party in Indian Hills. It couldn't be a charter meet without alcohol and croweaters. Though Happy drank twice the lethal limit for an adult hippopotamus, the other part of the party's allure was ignored entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just pulling these chapter titles out of my ass at this point, don't even try and decipher them. My rhyming skills are rudimentary, I'm aware. It seemed like a fun idea the first time I did it; now, it is NOT.  
> As I was writing this I remembered back when Gemma and Tig were at Gemma's dad's house and Tig turned all the porcelain dolls around in a glass case so they wouldn't be looking at him, and I literally cannot stop laughing. Tig's relationship with dolls is so outrageously funny to me, sad, disturbing, but ultimately funny.  
> Am I implying that all men know each other? YES because it's true.


	11. Meet the Guys and Through Sunshine's eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Sunshine POV

"Oh my god, her boobs are huge," Melody whispered reverently with her nose practically touching the window, and Sunshine turned to frown at her. Thankfully, she was the only one close enough to hear her odd little comment.

The door chimed before she could question the teenager, and two people walked in.

"Welcome to Big Jim's Diner," Melody called out with an absolutely voracious grin before Sunshinecould stop her. "What can I put in your mouth today?"

"Oh my," the woman drawled, covering her laugh with her hand.

"Sorry about that one," Sunshine abandoned the table she was bussing and grabbed two menus off the counter. "We're working on her manners,"

"That's quite alright,"

"Is Happy here?" The man questioned, and Sunshine looked at him long enough to recognize him. He was from the group that Happy had brought over, the one that he got the puppy from.

"No, not for about a week,"

"Oh. Well," the man settled in the booth, smiling up at Sunshine. "Whenever I don't see him, I always assume he's here,"

Sunshine laughed, unsure of how to respond. 

"Alexander tells me that you're the one that Happy gave one of our puppies to," the woman redirected the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere, and Sunshine was grateful. She wasn't sure if the man was intentionally so intense.

"Yeah, I am," she smiled. "She's such a sweet girl; I can't thank you enough,"

"Oh darling, absolutely, I'm so glad she got a loving home,"

"Do you want to see some pictures?" Sunshine asked, a little shyly. To be fair, she'd show any living soul pictures of her puppy, so she couldn't be _all that_ bashful about it.

"I would love to see pictures,"

Perfectly manicured hands took hold of Sunshine's phone, gasping and cooing over the photos.

"Oh, she is just a precious little doll, isn't she," she crooned, flipping the phone around to show the man across from her. Though the woman had called him 'Alexander,' Sunshine assumed that she wouldn't be allowed that same privilege. She recalled the other men calling him 'Tig,' so that's what she clicked into her brain.

He nodded, smiling in a way that Sunshine knew that no one else was privy to but the woman across from him.

"What'd you name her?" she handed the phone back, voice laced with southern charm.

"Peaches,"

"Oh, that is just the cutest thing," she breathed, fingers splayed over her heart.

"Thank you," Sunshine grinned, liking the safe and adoring energy the woman gave off. 

"Well, Alexander went on and on about the pies that you serve here," she winked at her boyfriend (Sunshine didn't see a ring). "Which do you recommend?"

"Well, whatever it is, we have to get some of the 'Better than sex,'" Tig said before Sunshine could begin her spiel.

"Better than sex?" she asked, raising an elegantly sculpted eyebrow. "Are you sure, my love?"

"Nothin' has anything on you, Venus baby," Tig responded, eyes creased and face full of adoration.

Sunshine wondered if she should walk away from the moment.

Venus hummed in delight and wrapped her fingers around Tig's from across the table.

"All right then, we'll take that,"

"Coming right up," Sunshine slid the little notebook into her apron pocket and made for the kitchen, pulling an openly staring Melody in with her.

"That person with the biker," she started, craning her neck as Sunshine continued guiding her into the kitchen.

"Is a kind and wonderful woman," she finished the sentence before the teenager could put forth any number of insensitive words.

Melody frowned as she processed; Sunshine allowed her to take her time with it and went to plate up the desserts. Taking an extra five seconds, she cut the strawberry garnish into a heart, making a mental note to be sure to put it in front of Venus and not Tig by mistake. That would embarrass her to the point of disintegration.

"She's really pretty," Melody said quietly just as Sunshine was walking out of the kitchen.

"I'll tell her for you," Sunshine smiled in relief. Melody's home before foster care had been less than forgiving of people that weren't straight, 'ethnically pure,' or any other group that didn't hit the Nazi qualifications. 

Sunshine brought out the dessert and thankfully remembered to give the little heart to Venus. She took a moment longer to choose their mugs, a Tigger mug from Winnie the Pooh for Tig, and a mug with a printed on lipstick kiss mark for Venus.

Tig's laugh was a little maniac when he held his mug.

"I'm passing along a compliment from one of the waitresses; she said that you're very beautiful, and I'll have to agree," Sunshine said, all three of them glancing back to the kitchen to see Melody, who quickly ducked back behind the wall.

"Heavens above, that is so kind of her to say. Will you tell her that I say thank you?"

"Of course,"

"Is that the kid that punched Happy?" Tig asked, still trying to get a look at Melody even though she had disappeared.

"The very same," Sunshine sighed.

"Goodness, this place is an interesting spot," Venus said, amused.

"If she wants to go at him again, I'll help, night or day," Tig offered and looked like he genuinely meant it.

"I'll keep that in mind," Sunshine couldn't keep the wryness from her voice as she walked away.

"Ellie texted me and asked if I could come over to her house tonight," Melody said casually as if she could sneak it past Sunshine, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Is your homework done?" Sunshine didn't even have to _look_ at her to know that her shoulders were scrunched to her ears. 

"I can finish it at her house,"

"Uh-huh,"

"I will, Sunshine, promise,"

She finished loading the dishwasher and turned to the teenager, wiping the water off her hands.

Sunshine had been doing foster care for five years; a dozen kids had passed under her care, a dozen different scenarios, and a dozen different needs. She had cared for babies and toddlers and kids that had been through more life than she had. Each story of their placement was no less heartbreaking than the last, and Melody was no exception.

The girl had come to her five months earlier, a dirty half-crazed thing that hurled slurs and punches, hid cigarettes in her shoes, and could never be bothered to put on her seatbelt.

How the system thought it'd be best to put the child of a neo-Nazi in the house of a black woman was something Sunshine was willing to overlook.

Their current relationship was hard-earned months of conversation and boundary setting, upheld promises, and stable moods on Sunshine's end. The girl had slowly learned that Sunshine wasn't going to hurt her and would always feed and take care of her no matter how she acted.

Now, Melody couldn't wait to get home from school to tell Sunshine about her day, told her all about the boy she liked, and hadn't gotten a school suspension for weeks. They were still working, with varying degrees of effort, on the last part.

A warm burst of affection overtook Sunshine's heart as she looked at the girl; her blonde hair was finally reaching the tops of her shoulders from an episode she had at the beginning of her home transition in which she chopped all her hair off. Sunshine hadn't been mad, sad if anything, and simply took the clippers from her hand while the girl stared at her defiantly and cleaned up the edges around her ears.

"I'll call Ellie's mom," she said, unable to help her smile as Melody punched the air.

"You're the best," she crowed, launching her arms around Sunshine's waist and squeezing.

Teenage affection was fleeting and rare, so she squeezed back, kissing the top of the girl's head.

" _You're_ the best," she whispered back.

* * *

"I get it," Venus said as Sunshine came to check on the pair. The woman was leaned back a little in the booth, taking in the pictures on the walls and Bob Dylan on the jukebox. "The call to this place, it's a truly alluring location,"

Her intelligent eyes fixed on Sunshine, boring into her soul.

"I understand why Happy loves it so much here."

A blush roared to Sunshine's cheeks.

"God, you really are somethin'," Venus breathed. "I like you, Sunshine. You have a good heart."

"Th-thank you," she stammered and glanced to the floor, still entirely incapable of accepting compliments.

Venus and Tig left a little after that, Sunshine holding a napkin yielding Venus's personal phone number, and Sunshine was a bit apprehensive of what her 'business' line was for. The woman told her that she would connect them later for a good day to go shopping, and Sunshine found herself excited at the idea. All of her friends were married with kids, too busy for a simple shopping excursion, but something told her that Venus would move heaven and earth to shop with a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't apparent already, I love Venus. Like, a lot.  
> This was supposed to go up yesterday, but I had a killer migraine that knocked me out for almost eleven hours last night, so that didn't happen.  
> I'm not too impressed with this chapter, but the next one will be angsty as all shit so buckle up.


	12. Through Sunshine's eyes and Let me Sympathize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning, panic attacks.

Sometimes, it got too loud.

It wasn't often. Happy had a handle on things, the Tacoma Killer didn't break, but sometimes he chipped.

No walls have ever been infallible; every great stronghold has been breached.

Nights like these, the bad nights, he was a restless mass of energy. No part of his house wasn't paced; his arms were itched raw, scalp scrubbed with blunt nails.

Onion hated the loud nights. Happy hated that he noticed. The white pitbull would sit and watch him for hours, growling at the demons that rattled in Happy's head.

Tonight, it was one of the worst since he was all alone, before the club, before Onion, before he knew that people could like him just fine, even with his occupation and his blunt personality.

The faces on his stomach _burned_ , the voices of the damned hissing at him in the dark, and he absently scratched at them, willing them to keep their voices down.

He wasn't ashamed of what he did, his job was as necessary as any other, or at least that's how he justified it. Seldom did he ever _have_ to justify it to himself. There wouldn't be a need for the Tacoma killer if people didn't _need the Tacoma killer._

Supply and demand, the cycle of commerce.

Happy figured he was just as brutal as any other corporation, even though the product was first-degree murder.

The knobs of the kitchen cabinet clacked down the knocks in his spine like ladder rungs as he slid to the floor, knees tucked under his chin.

He couldn't breathe, and what little oxygen he was getting was in short hard bursts that ripped open his chest like fire.

Onion whined, heavy paw crushing the top of his foot as the beast wiggled in closer, snuffling against his buzzed head.

With a shaking body, he let Onion worm his way in, even though the process of calling his limbs back to him was an agonizing one. Onion was in need of a good scrub down. Happy determined this in the infinitesimal part of his brain that was coherent as he buried his face into the slobbering dog's neck, arms looped around his neck. He was probably squeezing too hard, but the pittie wasn't protesting, so he latched onto the tether of reality.

Time didn't exist for him, sitting in the dark, holding his dog, battling for each breath, every heartbeat ricocheting in his head like a gunshot.

In the dark, his phone pinged, lighting up the room in its blinding glow. He couldn't remember where he had dropped it in his endless pacing.

His head snapped, fight or flight kicking in at the sudden noise, momentarily overriding the boiling panic in his body.

Onion shuffled with him to the phone, a slow-moving eight-limbed creature.

He collapsed on the floor next to the device, grunting as Onion stepped on his stomach while he settled himself overtop him.

**Text message from: Sunshine**

Happy blinked, unsure if he had read that correctly. He had never hallucinated from a panic attack before, but he didn't put it past the realm of possibility.

He clicked on the message, fingers trembling too hard to hold the phone properly.

It was a picture.

Happy struggled to focus his eyes, the brown blur of the picture slowly coming into center.

It was the puppy, Peaches, sitting on a kitchen floor like he was, head cocked to the side at something Sunshine was saying. 

**She doesn't understand the concept of 'no, you can't have ice cream,'** the caption read with a laughing emoji.

Happy didn't use emojis and didn't affiliate himself with people who did, but he was more than willing to make the exception.

He never got a text like this. The MC didn't text for any other reason than quick relaying of messages, certainly not cute pictures of dogs or emojis.

Except for one time that Tig had sent him a very detailed and painstakingly crafted penis made of dashes and lines, Happy almost blocked his number.

The fog of his brain was slow-moving, but it was moving, and he realized that he had been staring at the picture of the puppy for too long and that the appropriate thing to do would be to respond to her, but he was unsure of how to do that. He didn't have clever quips ready to roll off his tongue; his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Arms moving in slow motion and feeling like they weighed more than his whole body, Happy carefully lifted his arms and situated the phone on his chest.

The flash lit up the room, lighting up the ridiculous position Onion was in on his stomach and between his legs. The poor dog wasn't prepared for such a bright light and sneezed all over Happy. 

The noise that came out of him was a crossbreed of a groan, a shout, and a laugh. His body still felt like it was miles away as he looked at the picture, admiring how Onion looked like a gargoyle and typed out a message. Texting with almost no dexterity was aggravating, but he didn't have the energy to be mad.

 **He doesn't understand the concept of 'personal space _.'_ **He wondered if it was fair to poke fun at the animal that was the only thing holding him in place. If he were to change his mind and walk away, Happy was sure he'd float up through the ceiling, or worse; the floor would swallow him whole.

It took seconds or maybe years for Sunshine to respond, the shadows on the wall didn't move all that much, and though Happy wasn't breathing with ease, he had convinced his body that it was necessary.

**Onion?**

It took a few seconds for his mind to connect that they were talking about his dog and not the vegetable.

**Yep.**

Three little dots danced in the corner of his screen.

**I hope Peaches gets as big as him. I love big dogs.**

It was a meaningless conversation, no reason other than to talk. It was confusing and probably worthless in the grand scheme (if Happy believed in the 'grand scheme'), and it made his whole body warm.

**She will, her mom is enormous**

The conversation was halting and unsteady, a newborn horse finding its legs, and Happy sometimes got stuck in the gray area and had to fight his way out of it, but he got out.

They talked about nothing, and it meant everything. 

The night stretched on, still dark and empty, but not as unending.

She didn't solve the problems but assured his mind that there _were_ solutions to them. She didn't chase away the encroaching dark; she sat with him in it and held his hand.

Time still didn't exist when she signed off for the night, telling him good night.

He had hardly pressed send on his own message before he was hurtling across the house, Onion allowing him to leave.

No one should be surprised that he had a tattoo machine in his garage, nestled in the back right corner, with a secondhand massage table and a few books scattered on a card table.

His hands weren't shaking anymore as he put the gun together and poured the ink.

There was a gap on the inside of his arm, rested between a burst of color.

He didn't bother sketching out the design; it had settled in the small but present sentimental portion of his mind for a while now.

The scratching pinch of the needles narrowed his mind down wonderfully, and the design came to life. It was small, smaller than his feelings felt at the moment, but he figured it'd be odd to go bigger. Happy felt himself smile, not the usual grimace of harshly bared teeth, but the physical manifestation of relief.

Nestled in the crook of his arm, no bigger than a bottlecap, was the outline of the sun. Delicate and simple, just a black outline against the savage cacophony of loud color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for not knowing all of the tattoos that this man has, I don't pay that much attention. I'm also not googling it because that information doesn't need to live in my head forever, and if I do, it will. So just pretend with me, we're doing great so far.  
> Onion is a homie. You bet your ass he also has a tattoo of an onion somewhere.  
> Sorry for the heavy chapter, I know that Happy is never shown freaking out over his life choices like the rest of the gang, so I thought I'd put my two cents in on it.  
> That's all this story is, really. Just me putting in my two cents.


	13. QUESTION

This is a question for you lovelies.

I only have like four preplanned out chapters left, and obviously, this story has more potential than four more chapters, so this is the part where I ask all of you,

What do you want to see?  
What little shenanigans do you want these weirdos to get into?

Do you want a chapter of just Sunshine baking a cake? Do we want action, romance, fighting, violence?

I'm asking you, because like in the chapter before, you are the demand, I am the supply. I'm down for right about anything, so let me know and I'll do my best. Also, side note, please be as specific as you can. I can make stuff from like a broad 'they should go on a car ride' but like, what happens? Why are they in the car? Where are they going?

Do you get it? Of course, you get it, you're smart as hell.

So PLEASE and I mean this from the shriveled up organ that somehow is still a heart, suggestions, and chapter ideas, or even if it's just a moment _**IN** _a chapter, that's all good too.

Thank you for listening, I need sleep because I work inhuman hours.


	14. Let Me Sympathize and Honey, That's your size

Not much disturbed Happy. He was a pretty disturbed person; he tumbled with the dark and gross for most of his life, so seldom did something burn its way into his eyelids.

But catching Chucky taking his prosthetic hands out of the dishwasher at the clubhouse and say 'Wow, I can't believe that got the stains out!', _that_ had thrown a wrench in Happy's brain, and it was still rattling around.

He was still frowning at the ridiculous oddball Chuck was, therefore not paying as much attention to his surroundings as he normally did.

The diner door chimed as he opened it, and Sunshine walked straight into his chest.

"Oof," she gasped, bouncing off his body, his arm instinctively reaching out and catching her elbow. She smelled like peaches and vanilla, and Happy had felt _everything_ when she had bumped into him, and a face full of her hair that exploded uncontained from her head _._

Did the way that nearly every curve of her felt pressed against his front fully erase every thought he'd had that day and become the forefront of his mind for what he assumed would be forever? Yes.

"Oh, sorry, Hap," she laughed, her grin a verifiable sunbeam directed at his face. _She's close enough to kiss,_ Happy thought with a punch to the gut, eyes flickering to her glossed lips. She straightened his cut on his shoulders (it wasn't crooked) and patted his chest, moving to duck around him.

Happy's heart stuttered and _thundered_ in his chest, and he wondered if his eyes had little hearts in them like from the old cartoons.

"I hate to leave just as you're coming in, but I'm going shopping with Venus today," she said, halfway out the door and gesturing at the snow-white mustang pulling into the parking lot.

"Have fun," Happy said, voice sounding as raw as he felt.

"Thanks!" she smiled at him again. "I'll see you later,"

"Yeah,"

Happy stood in the doorway, watching Sunshine greet Venus with a hug and cheek kisses (he was _not_ jealous (he was)) and as Sunshine patted down her body, looking for something.

"One second, Venus," he heard her call out as she came back through the door that Happy held open for her.

"Can't leave without my phone," she said, breezing past him, her arm brushing his in the process.

The tattoo on the inside of Happy's elbow tingled and burned; he fought the urge to pull her aside and show her. Even _he_ knew that it would be a startling thing for her to see. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

"Hello, Happy, how are you?" Venus called out from the parking lot, and he begrudgingly walked to her. He sort of wanted to hold the door for Sunshine again, and yes, he understood that it was a little pathetic that he was hoping she'd touch him again, even if briefly. 

"Shopping trip, huh?" he stuffed his hands in his pockets, standing in front of the car with her.

"She is an absolute delight; I couldn't miss an opportunity to spend more time with her,"

 _Why the fuck haven't I thought of that,_ he growled in his mind and then realized what he was thinking of was a date, and then it felt like his mind was shitting itself.

"That, and she had such a voluptuous figure, I'd love to help her find a style other than a work shirt and jeans, maybe something with a little lace and satin."

Venus carefully pulled off her expensive sunglasses and stuck them in the cleavage of her shirt, staring Happy down as he tried not to swallow his tongue at the thought.

"Don't you think, Happy?" she asked innocently; how she could manage even a streak of innocence was something Happy could never figure out.

"About what?" he croaked, quickly looking anywhere that wasn't her eyes.

"Hmmm," she hummed, satisfied, and glanced at the door as Sunshine came back out and headed to the car.

"Don't look too glum, friend," Venus purred, slipping on her sunglasses. "If you ask nicely, I'm sure she'll model _all of it_ for you,"

Happy's mouth dropped open as he was struck dumb, feeling like he had been hit by a freight train with the force in which his mind was trying to come up with images.

"Bye, Happy," Sunshine called out as she climbed into the passenger side of the car, smiling brightly and waving.

"Bye," he rasped, unsure of how to breathe.

He had never hated and loved anyone as much as he did Venus right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's super short but the next one is coming quick, and thank you all for the suggestions, they're making my mind RACE!! That's a good thing, btw 😂


	15. Honey That's your Size and You seem like a Prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venus is a certified homie.

It was easy to forget how relaxing it was to talk to an adult when most of your free time was spent conversing with a teenager or through the filter of retail.

Venus had dubbed none of Charming's clothes stores as good enough to shop in, so they were taking a few extra minutes to go to the next biggest cities. 

Everything in the mustang was smooth and new, white leather and chrome, and Venus looked like a damn pinup model with Gucci sunglasses perched on the end of her nose and perfectly manicured nails tapping on the steering wheel.

She had road-rage something fierce, but it came out as slick southern charm.

"Oh my sweet boy," she crooned at the man revving his engine at them as a challenge or intimidation, or maybe both. "You couldn't beat me in a race any day under the good lord's sun, but that cute little noise your diesel is making is just the most adorable thing I've ever heard," 

She turned and pouted at the man to her left, pulling down her sunglasses to look at him while Sunshine laughed.

"He understands that we're in the right turn lane, right? We can't possibly race him?" Venus asked as the masculine posturing continued.

"I can't apply logic to the likes of him," Sunshine shook her head, slipping back into her own southern accent around her new friend. She had lived in California for almost fifteen years; the lilt had fallen from her tongue but always seemed to peek through when she was round like folk.

"Toodles, darling," Venus wiggled her fingers as they turned to the right when the light turned green, speeding away from the jacked-up truck.

* * *

The conversation was sporadic, ebbing, and flowing with Venus' levels of concentration. Sunshine let her have her fun of picking out clothes and colors and textures, occasionally holding them up to Sunshine's skin and either smiling or frowning, adding them the growing mass in Sunshine's arms.

Even neck-deep in textiles and murmuring about the varying qualities of American silks, Venus kept Sunshine in the corner of her eye and caught her glancing at the swollen belly of a pregnant woman that was browsing.

"Do you have any kids, Sunshine?" she asked conversationally, picking through shirts.

"None of my own. I do foster care, so I get my fix here and there," she joked, shuffling her feet.

"That is mighty kind of you, doing foster care,"

"My aunt did it for decades; I fell in love with it when I moved up here to live with her,"

"Oh. Where did you move from?"

"Booneville, Mississippi," she sighed, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"A true southern girl," Venus nodded in approval.

"Yes, ma'am, born and raised. Moved to Cali when I was fourteen to live with my aunt,"

"You never wanted to move back?" They had moved to the underwear section of the boutique now, and Venus was thumbing through the thongs without hesitation.

"I thought about it, but not for very long. I got a free ride through college in Stockton; I got Gladys' house when she passed, I practically run the diner," she took a breath and lost the fight with the blush as Venus nonchalantly added lacy underwear to the pile.

"There wasn't much for me back in Booneville. Mom and Dad are gone; Marie moved to Charming and lived with me while she went to college," she shrugged a shoulder. She hadn't been back to the town since her parents had died seven years ago.

"Good for you," Venus had turned to look at her, fierce pride on her face. "My presence has never graced Mississippi, but I applaud you for getting out when you knew you couldn't stay. I know how hard it is to leave the place that raised you, even when it's not good for you," her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her throat before she pushed whatever aside that was giving her hesitation.

"Enough sadness now, let's talk about boys," she wiggled her eyebrows at Sunshine, who giggled in turn. This is what she had expected the conversation to be like when Venus had first invited her on their shopping trip.

"So tell me, darling, I've had my suspicions that Happy is actually a gentle and attentive lover, but also fucks like a freight train, am I right?"

Sunshine's mouth popped open in shock, face flooding red with embarrassment, and then her mind was positively _overtaken_ with the same inquiry, how it would feel being under his eyes and touch, how hard her heart would pound in her chest, how her toes would curl in her socks.

"Oh my god," she whispered, running fingers through her hair in an attempt at banishing the thoughts that somehow how never _really_ went away.

"Oh, come now," Venus admonished with a gentle eye roll. "Don't be stingy; I can handle all the details, please spare none,"

Sunshine cleared her throat, twice since the first one just wasn't doing it, but couldn't match Venus' gaze.

"We haven't um," she took in a breath and looked to the ceiling, willing the heat to leave her face and neck. "We haven't. We're just friends; it's not like that,"

Venus's head snapped to her, perfectly waxed eyebrows raising.

"Just friends?"

"Yep,"

"You're telling me that you don't want him in your bed?"

"Just friends," Sunshine answered with a nervous quiver in her voice, artfully avoiding the question.

"Do you want to be more than friends?" Venus pressed further, knowing better than to repeat the question.

Sunshine hummed, suddenly _very_ interested in the clothes to her left, skimming her hand over the rack, pretending that her answer was lost in the clack of clothes hangers.

Patient as a saint, Venus waited for her to answer, and she found herself caught halfway between grateful and annoyed with the kindness she was being treated with.

"I'm not like you," she said finally after almost chewing off her bottom lip in thought. "I can't wear myself like a shield and make people accept me as I am. That's not me," she rubbed the back of her neck. "I try not to, but I care about what people think of me, even when I know it's going to hurt my feelings,"

The look in Venus' eyes spoke of wisdom and experience unhindered by reincarnation and lifetimes.

"You don't think he likes you like that, do you?" It was hardly a question.

"I'm almost thirty, V; I can't go around looking for my heart to get broken like a teenager anymore. I've played the game of unreciprocated with too many men."

"Ain't no specimen on earth like Happy Lowman," Venus corrected, long finger raised in a waggle.

"Let me ask you this, does he help you with little things? Picking something up, holding the door for you? Maybe he even takes his plate up to you at the restaurant if it's busy and he wants to save you the trip,"

"Uh, yeah. He does all of those," Sunshine said, surprised at the accuracy of the questions.

"Uh-huh, does he ever physically turn his back to you?"

"Yeah," she frowned.

"Does he frequently put you in situations in which you have the upper hand? Like giving you the metaphorical high ground or going out of his way to make you feel safe?"

"How do you know all of this?" Sunshine was a little creeped out at this point. Happy always made her feel safe; he kept his distance and his voice down, kept the conversation on the polite side of personal; every movement was slow and calculated not to startle her.

Venus ignored her and kept going.

"Has he ever brushed you off without apology? I mean ever?"

"Never." Sunshine sighed, accepting her fate and rolling with the questions.

"Well, darling, I have some news for you," Venus said, eyes lighting up. "It seems your unrequited love isn't all that unrequited,"

Glossing over the fact that she said love twice, Sunshine frowned at the woman across from her, a mountain of clothes forgotten in her hold.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I am one of the few lucky people on this very planet that has had the pleasure of sitting down and conversing with one Guadelupe Lowman about her rather curious offspring,"

"Who?"

"Happy's mother, a wonderfully spry woman in her seventies who raised a man of questionable morals but someone with a strong respect for women. She told me that Happy could be 'whatever the fuck he wanted to be,' but if he were a woman-hater, she'd smother him in his sleep,"

This conversation dumbfounded Sunshine.

"All the little questions I asked you? That's what he does to women he cares for, and respects, myself, Gemma, Tara, Lyla, the list goes on,"

"Then how do you know that he," she didn't know _why_ it was so hard to say, she wasn't a twelve-year-old girl that was whispering about crushes on the playground. "that he likes me? I mean, look at me," she shrugged, gesturing half-heartedly at her body.

"That boy has stars in his eyes every time he looks at you, Sunshine. He'd hold up the heavens if you asked him to."

The deeply rooted instinct to deny the claim crawled up her throat, but she swallowed it down even though it scratched her. Her self-love was a hard bought thing that fought against her every day, and sometimes it won, but she wasn't going to let it eat her happiness today.

A pleasant warmth bloomed in her belly, waking up the butterflies and settling nicely like a blanket over her limbs as she tried on the notion for size.

"If you were to flirt with him, I'm positively certain he'd pass away,"

The laugh burst out of Sunshine's chest before she could stop it, and it earned her a delighted grin from Venus.

"Come on, beautiful; we need to go tries these on you so I can see how absolutely stunning you are all dolled up,"

* * *

"Oh honey," Venus breathed, hands clasped to her chest as Sunshine walked out of the dressing room, smoothing down the front of the dress.

"It feels too small," she said, pulling the fabric away from her body.

"No, it's exactly your size; you seem to always wear a size and a half too big, that's why it feels so tight," Venus strode over to her (impressive considering her no less than six-inch heels) and circled her, making appreciative noises.

"Sunshine, you look transcendent," Venus gazed at her friend, getting a little misty-eyed, and pulled Sunshine into a tight hug. She smelled like Chanel perfume and strawberry gum, and Sunshine forgot how good it felt to be embraced by someone taller than her, so she sank into the hold.

"Alright," she pulled away after a few good seconds of squeezing and wiped her eyes, no mascara lines today, and took a step back. 

"Lemme get a picture of you so I can make Happy swallow his tongue,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan for this, but do you think that they'd follow it? No.  
> Sorry for the delay with all the chapters, my friends, I intended on never skipping more than one day, but that didn't work I guess. I'm going to pack all the chapters I can in the next few days, so be warned. I'm going to try and finish this before the start of the year, or at least stop at a good spot because I'm FINALLY going to sit down and write the book I've been working on for SIX YEARS!!! That is a third of my life. Pray for me😂  
> I've never really specified Sunshine's body type, by design, and all I'm really going to say is that she's the love child of LIzzo and Danielle Brooks, two wonderfully strong beautiful women.  
> I didn't research Booneville Missippi AT ALL, so don't come for me. I'm a midwestern hoe, I don't understand climates lower than Illinois, and that's probably stretching it.  
> Got more suggestions? let me know


	16. You seem like Prize and Couldn't Save me if you Try

The phone buzzed in Happy's pocket, and he took the distraction gladly. He could appreciate a good argument as well as the next guy, but listening to Tig and Kozik bicker was something that even _he_ couldn't enjoy.

**Venus Van Dam: 1 image attached**

Happy frowned. She only ever sent him pictures of the puppies, and now they had all gone to new homes. The Harley Davidson clock on the wall told him that the girls had only been shopping for two hours, and though that seemed like more than a rational time to call the quits on the excursion to him, he knew that in the back of his mind, they weren't done yet. Gemma shopped for _hours_ at a stretch, and if Happy were the kind to beg, he'd plead for mercy when he had to follow her on protective detail.

Happy sat heavily on the couch in the corner, away from the nagging at the bar. Half-Sack stood off to the side of the argument like a kid listening to his fighting parents on the verge of a divorce, nervously playing with his fingers.

Happy clicked on the file and waited as it loaded. It had taken a lot of persuading on behalf of his friends for him to get a touchscreen phone, so his device was practically first-generation, ergo, _slow_ loading.

Happy felt like his entire body shut down like there was a power outage. One second, he was on; the next second, he was at the 'main menu' option in a video game, waiting for direction.

The picture wasn't what Venus had insinuated earlier in the day, and it killed Happy a little to think that he was thankful that it wasn't. He couldn't have a full-blown stroke in the clubhouse.

It was just Sunshine in a simple dress, canary yellow and hanging to her knees; the high waist sat just under her chest.

 _Heart palpitations,_ Happy thought to himself, labeling the feeling in his chest. His skin felt like it was buzzing, the blood in his veins rushing too hard, too fast, like it was trying to get away from him.

The dress wasn't lewd. It had frilly shoulder coverings and minimal cleavage showing and covered more than half of her legs. It wasn't the dress that made him feel floaty, and he supposed that it wasn't her body (even though it was a _s t r o n g_ contender). He concluded that it was just Sunshine. Venus could have sent a picture of her wearing a parka, and Happy felt confident that his insides would have liquified all the same because it was just Sunshine.

 _God,_ he wanted to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

"You all right, Hap?" Tig asked, snapping Happy's attention to the man. He hadn't heard the conversation drop off, and he assumed it wasn't all the settling to see him staring down unblinkingly at his phone.

"Your wife is trying to kill me," he deadpanned.

"Eh, good for her," he said, taking a sip of his beer. 

"Did she send you something?" Half-Sack asked, taking a step closer and craning his neck to look at the phone.

"Take one step closer, and I'll feed you your other ball," Happy glared, turning his phone screen away protectively.

He all but scurried away, knowing better than to test the bluff of Happy.

 **I think yellow is her color; what do you think?** Was the caption that he hadn't even noticed, which wasn't all that good considering it was his job to see things.

Fingers hovered over the keypad of the phone, his mind was a garbled mess of incoherent sounds and emotions, not even words because they required higher processing functions, and that wasn't something that he had right now.

 **Agreed** , he typed back; each letter carefully punched in as if that would better convey how emphatically he was agreeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venus is such a good wing woman for both of them. She's like a fairy godmother.


	17. Couldn't save me if you tried

The phone call later that night had been a surprise.

Sunshine had asked him if Venus had texted him any pictures, and he said that she had. He listened for a few seconds as she got MIGHTILY flustered on the other line, huffing and apologizing and saying that she didn't think Venus was serious when she said that she would send them.

Happy had reassured her that it was fine and admitted that he liked the picture.

Her end got quiet before she quietly whispered a 'yeah?'

The affirmation was quick and easy as it rolled off his tongue, the truest thing he had said all week.

He couldn't see the smile, knew it was delusional to think that he could, but he could _hear_ the click of her full lips sliding over her perfectly straight white teeth as she grinned, and he could all but feel the warmth of it through the receiver.

He was then treated to a quick story about how Venus insisted on paying for the clothes that she was going to get, even when it was an outrageous sum.

Happy liked this, even more than he was willing to let on. He hung off her every word as she made her way through her house from what he could hear. He could see her in his mind; phone pressed between her ear and shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher, and he listened to the dishes clanking together, then as she made her way to the living room and the excited grunts of Peaches as she settled on the couch with Sunshine. She had admitted that she was scared to ask what Venus did for a living if it allowed her to pay for half a new wardrobe for a week old friendship.

Venus wasn't ashamed of her occupation, and Happy wasn't embarrassed by proxy, so he told her straight out what she did but added that she had severely limited her 'services' since she had started seeing Tig.

"Oh my god," Sunshine had whispered in horror. "Is that why she said I'd look better holding a leash than wearing a collar?"

Happy laughed a loud unintentional noise that echoed in the clubhouse.

Bobby turned his head and stared at him.

The phone call wasn't audaciously long, deep enough to feel personal but not intimate, a big enough streak of domesticity that it made Happy's heart ache in a way that it hadn't in a long time.

Bobby threw him questioning looks for the rest of the night but never asked for the origin of his newfound serenity.

* * *

Halloween was on the horizon, something that Happy had always correlated with cooling temperatures and falling leaves.

California offered no such things.

Eighty degrees and perfectly sunny, too sunny actually, Happy didn't have hair(by choice), and his central American lineage only offered so much in the sunburn protection category.

And wearing hats made him look even _more_ like a criminal. 

He was greeted with the usual “Sunshine, your biker is here,” from Melody, as he sat at the counter.

It wasn't crowded today, just a smattering of people filling the booths, quietly soaking in the timeless ambiance of the place, to which Happy approved greatly.

Sunshine gave him a smile and a wave from her spot tucked up in the corner of the counter, no less than three oversized binders overflowing with papers sat around her, a pen between her teeth and one in her hand.

Jim wasn't there, and from what Happy had recently seen, he was less and less. And that meant that Sunshine was having to step up more and more, managing, waitressing, and baking. Happy wasn't sure how her hair wasn't falling out. 

The pie Melody served wasn't as good as when Sunshine handed it to him, but he figured that was more in his head than the actual taste.

When she wasn't being flagged down by a customer, Melody sat behind the counter and fidgeted with something in her hands, frowning mightily down at her lap.

Happy minded his own business and ate his pie.

“ERG, ” she wailed, throwing a piece of paper on the counter and raising her hands in the air in mock surrender.

It was mostly a crumpled ball, but Happy instantly recognized the creases and figured that it could maybe be a crane if he squinted his eyes and tilted his head.

After wiping his hands on the napkin, he reached for the globbed mess. Melody grunted at him but didn’t try to stop him, just frowned as he smoothed the paper out on the counter.

He hadn’t folded anything in a while, probably longer ago than he thought, but the crane came into existence with three dimensions all the same.

He slid it back across the counter to a _very_ intrigued looking Melody.

Her ‘older than her years’ eyes deduced him seconds, and she must have liked what she figured out because she reached under the counter and hauled up a black backpack and slammed it on the counter, rattling the cutlery and earning a reproachful growl from Sunshine.

Melody flapped a placating hand at her and dug through the bag, which sounded suspiciously simultaneously crunchy and wet, and produced a packet of origami paper like she had pulled the sword from the stone.

It _thwapped_ nicely on the counter as she slapped in front of Happy. 

“Make me another.”

“Please?” Sunshine suggested, not looking up from her paperwork.

“Please?” Melody added, facing him with the full force of her big blue eyes.

It’s not like he had anything better to do. 

Another crane, a frog, a mantis, and three stars were constructed under the captivated eye of Melody, who was leaning so far over on the counter, Happy wondered if her feet were actually touching the ground.

The next paper he took, he set it in front of her and carefully explained where to fold and how to do it, how to get a sharper crease, and when to know if the paper was getting too worn.

Melody absorbed the information like a sponge, nodding along with his description and following his instruction perfectly.

And there sat a tiny crane, a little messy and crooked but unmistakably a crane.

Melody looked up and grinned at Happy, a sharp-toothed thing that he related to all too well, and he couldn't help but smile back.

He wasn't sure how long he sat at the counter and helped her learn to fold, even venturing out into dollar bills, but it was worth every second.

* * *

As inconspicuously as she could, Sunshine lifted her phone and took a quick picture of the scene folding out in front of her. Happy and Melody we're both leaning down over the counter, so lost in concentration that their heads were a scant inch from touching.

It made her unreasonably pleased to see the two bonding like this, knowing how hard it was for them to make friends or even get along with another person.

Any hope she had of squashing the growing feeling in her chest when it came to Happy was blown away when she caught him praising the girl for her folding technique. It was a simple, _normal_ thing to do, but Melody thrived off praise like it was her lifeblood, a residual after-effect of her life before the system.

Heart practically bursting from her chest, Sunshine could only give a smile when they both turned to her, beaming ear to ear, holding up matching turtles because tears were threatening to leak from her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typed this all on my phone because I’m stranded at my sisters house because of a blizzard and battling a migraine. Sorry for lack of quality and grammar.


	18. I've given up on naming chapters, so chapter nineteen I guess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe, there's something wretched about this  
> Something so precious about this  
> Oh what a sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the understanding with the name change from Daisy-May to Sunshine. It made me happier than I'm willing to admit.

When Happy had asked her 'how many cupcakes can five-year-olds eat?', he thought she was kidding when she said at least fifty.

Sunshine and Melody came into the house carrying boxes of food, a blur of motion, color, and sound.

Tara held the door for them and complimented the smell, Jax took the boxes from Melody's hands, Abel jumped up and down while chanting about cupcakes. Thomas, never one to be outdone by his brother, sat on the floor and yelled, adding his two cents.

"Uncle Happy!" Abel cried, positively _beaming_ ear to ear. "Cupcakes!"

Sunshine grinned at Happy from over her stack of cake boxes as she clumsily kicked off her sandals, denying Tara's help.

"I'm the October Santa," she winked at the little boy who pranced after her into the kitchen, Happy dumbly following.

"So," she asked, setting the boxes on the counter for Abel to see. "What do you think? They good enough for your party?"

Abel scrutinized the blue and green frosting, fogging up the plastic with his breath. Jax laughed, leaned up against the counter.

"Yeah. They look really yummy,"

Sunshine grinned.

Happy, for all his intentions of listening to the conversation, wouldn't be able to see if a parade of kangaroos bounced through the kitchen.

Sunshine was wearing the dress. _The_ dress, the one from the picture. It was a deep buttery yellow and was damn near tailored to her body, equal parts lose and flowing and form-fitting.

Happy's heart _soared_. He thought this feeling was something that only other people felt, people that weren't like him. People with nine to five jobs and drove sensible cars and whose default position wasn't their fists curled ready for a fight.

The Tacoma killer had butterflies in his stomach because a pretty girl was standing in front of him. He felt like a depraved victorian, now that he could see her collarbone and ankles, the magnolias on the inside of her forearm, and the dragonfly on top of her foot. He hadn't known about the dragonfly, but he wanted to know about it. Happy didn't _like_ getting to know people just for the sake of getting to know them. But he wanted to know Sunshine, wanted to know her as he had never known someone before.

"This is amazing, really; I can't believe that you made all of this," Tara complimented, Thomas propped on her hip.

"Oh, it was no problem; I haven't made cupcakes in a long time; it was actually pretty fun," Sunshine responded, smiling brightly. Her hair was different today, braided in tiny strands that were braided into one thick plait that hung down between her shoulder blades. In true Sunshine fashion, a few small braids had escaped the big one and hung around her face, never to be confined behind her ears where she tucked it.

Abel was openly staring at her, head tilted back and mouth open a little.

"So, Happy tells me it's your birthday," Sunshine said, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

He nodded his head sagely.

"I can't believe you're turning twelve,"

His face split in an easy grin. "No, I'm not turning twelve," he shook his head.

Sunshine frowned at him.

"Oh, my bad, you're turning nine,"

"No," he giggled.

"How old are you, Abel?" Jax asked, smiling at the exchange.

"Five!" he jumped up in the air, holding out his splayed fingers for Sunshine to see.

She gasped loudly. "No way! Five?"

"Yeah, that's why I'm having such a big party. My whole class is coming to play,"

"That is so cool. Are you excited for them to come?"

"Super excited," he jumped again, unable to contain his wild energy.

"Jax?" a new voice called out through the house, and Gemma walked through the sliding glass doors. "You need to go help Tig and Bobby set up the tables before they kill each other,"

Jax sighed and pushed away from the counter, sauntering through the open door.

Gemma tilted her head at the woman in the kitchen who was busy sorting the food she had brought.

"You must be Sunshine," she said, extending her hand.

"That's me," she responded bashfully, shaking her hand.

Happy was so ungodly anxious he felt like his skeleton was going to vibrate out of his skin.

Tara threw him a confused look as he crossed his arms over his chest and then put them to his sides and repeated the process.

"I'm Gemma, Jax's mom,"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sunshine smiled, using her southern charm, and the corner of Gemma's mouth quirked up.

"We'll have to talk in a little while,"

"Yeah, of course,"

There was still a lot of the party to set up, and Happy was dragged all over the property doing whatever he was told, hanging streamers, taking out the trash, a secret mission per Jax to make sure that everything incriminating wasn't in the house.

Of course, he did it all, but all he wanted was to stay in the kitchen with Sunshine as she finished the desserts. Club business had been never-ending the last few weeks, and he hardly had a moment to go to the diner. It had been a relief when Jax asked him to get a hold of Sunshine to cater the party, telling him that he didn't care what it would cost him; he wanted her to do it.

Too soon, the clock struck noon, and twenty-seven kindergarteners stormed through the front door like a tsunami.

Happy hid his urge to climb on the table to avoid the stampede.

They were ushered to the backyard, much to the horror of the Sons out there.

Juice had a kid on his shoulders and three trying to scale his legs in less than eleven minutes. Piney was in charge of the balloons, and those brave enough to get close to the 'scary man' got a balloon tied to their wrist for the effort.

The kids weren't the part that Happy was uncomfortable with; he liked kids; granted, when there were two or three, it was the parents that he wasn't all that thrilled about.

Some felt comfortable enough dropping their kids off, but most stuck around. SAMCRO did have a bit of a reputation, and Happy knew that Jax and Tara were nervous about the party's turnout because of said reputation.

But to Abel's jubilation, every single kid in his class showed up to the party, albeit most came with supervision.

As much as Happy wanted to stay in the kitchen with Sunshine, most of the adults were congregating in there too, and he couldn't deal with them and opted to go outside with the kids, who were at least blunt in their judgment.

* * *

"So Sunshine," Gemma started, standing at the table while the other woman finished frosting the cake. She had been too worried about the differing humidity levels during transport and didn't want to risk the frosting getting messed up, so she was doing it quickly.

"Where'd you go to college?"

Venus had talked a little about Gemma on their shopping trips and an occasional phone call. She had described the matriarch as a 'hard-ass, family-oriented woman with a proclivity for meddling,' so the not so veiled questions didn't catch Sunshine totally off guard, but they still made her nervous.

"I went to Stockton and got a four-year degree in Business Management with a minor in psychology,"

"What business do you plan on running?"

"Well," she artfully swiped the frosting on the cake, "I've been pretty much running the diner I work at for about three years now; it's the whole reason I took the classes."

"How long have you been working there?"

"Since I was fifteen,"

"And how old are you now?"

"I'll be twenty-nine in a few months,"

"That's a good chunk of time, sweetheart," Gemma raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"I picked up other jobs when I was in college, but I've never left the diner. I don't think I can anymore, to be honest,"

"I never had a job I loved that much," Gemma said, leaning her hip against the table. "Except being a mom, but the pay was shit,"

Sunshine laughed as she rotated the cake, her hands a practiced blur of motion.

"Tell me about it,"

"You have kids?"

"None of my own, but I've been a foster mom for long enough that I've got a good idea," she carefully placed her words so she wouldn't sound too defensive about it. Some people didn't think fostering kids took as much energy and patience as having your own children, and Sunshine wasn't ready to have that argument again.

"That blond girl you came in with, she yours?"

"Melody? Yeah," she looked up from the cake to find the teenager, but she had found Ellie in the yard, so Sunshine could kiss her goodbye for the rest of the day. It had been a surprise to learn that her best friend was the daughter of one of the Sons, something that Sunshine hadn't put together until Opie picked Ellie up from her house one day. It had been an interesting interaction.

"I could never do foster care," Gemma said, looking off into the living room. "I'd wanna keep them all,"

"It's the hardest thing in the world to let them go," Sunshine agreed, pushing away the memory of every time she had to give a kid back. Some of the stories were good, kids getting reunited with parents that had cleaned up their act, a doting grandmother coming into the picture, a couple looking to adopt fell in love with them. But the other stories, the ones of the kids being rotated house to house or abusive parents being awarded custody, those were the kind that frayed away at her soul.

She slid the cake into the refrigerator and washed her hands, waiting for Gemma to start up the mild interrogation again.

"Have any family around here?"

"I have a sister in Lodi; she's all the blood I've got left,"

"Family is an important thing; we'd all be lost without it,"

"If anything happened to Marie, I'd lose my mind," Sunshine nodded.

"Is that your sister?"

"Yeah,"

"How'd you get stuck with a name like Sunshine, and she got to be called Marie?" Gemma asked wryly, lips pursed to the side.

"Her first name is Zipporah, but the only people allowed to call her that were our parents; everyone else has to call her by her middle name,"

Gemma hummed out a noise that Sunshine interpreted as amused.

Sunshine stayed quiet as Gemma seemed to chew some words around in her mouth; Venus had debriefed her about the woman and how it was just best to play along as long as it didn't kill you.

"What do you think of the club?"

Sunshine guess that the game they were playing of 'is this an interrogation or an odd conversation?' was over, and now it was just an interrogation.

Sunshine shrugged, suddenly a little nervous of her own opinion. But she was doing better all the time with her confidence, especially with Venus' help.

"I'm not stupid, I read the paper, I listen to what the people say," she dropped her voice lower and looked to the painting on the wall instead of Gemma's eyes, knowing that she'd lose her nerve if she were to do that.

"I know it's not all rainbows and kittens," her arms crept around her chest like she had to protect herself. "But I know it's not all that bad either. I know about the fundraisers for the schools because I do 'em too," she bit her lip, forcing away the inquiry in her mind that wondered if she remembered seeing Happy at a function. "I heard about the volunteer work up in Wahiawa, how at the garage you wave the bill sometimes because you know the person can't pay,"

Gemma was looking at her in a way that Sunshine wished she'd never see again. It was appraising and degrading; it made her hopeful and crushed every dream she ever had.

"I don't care all that much about the bad stuff, either," she added on, wondering if it was what Gemma was looking for. "Where I grew up, there was only one 'club,' and it started and ended with a 'k,' and I don't think y'all are too affiliated," she nodded to Venus talking to T.O. and his wife and to the diverse children scrambling through the house.

"I sold a lot of pot baked goods in college to help ends meet," she raised an embarrassed shoulder at the arched brow of the woman staring her down. "So even if I wanted to, I couldn't be all that judgmental of anything the club has done. If there's a demand, there's a supply; I understand that,"

"You're a smart girl, Sunshine. I hope you stick around," Gemma said after several long seconds of staring her down with squinted eyes and pursed lips.

Sunshine let out a relieved breath that she didn't even know she was holding and smiled.

Neither of them saw Happy sitting on the other side of the sliding glass doors, listening to every word.

* * *

It was time to open presents, arguably the best part of the celebration, other than the cake, of course. Happy, in particular, was looking forward to the cake.

Abel had a mountain of presents, and his eyes downright _gleamed_ as he surveyed his hoard.

Happy had drawn blanks when it came to getting the kid gifts. Everything he thought would useful was deemed 'irresponsibly inappropriate for a child' by Juice when they had raided a Toysrus the weekend prior. 

So, Happy guessed the pocket knife and gun would have to wait until Abel was at least double digits, or when Juice gave him the green light. 

Sunshine wasn't sitting next to him at the picnic tables, and he _itched_ for her company, for a chance and plausible reason to sit next to her. She sat at the table across from him with Lyla, Gemma, and Venus. 

Abel excitedly tore into the presents, unveiling piles of toy motorcycles and Hotwheels, footballs and new clothes, light-up sneakers, and books on cars. His tiny voice called out, 'thank you's, Tara helping him sound out the names in the cars. Jax ran around the whole scene with his phone, snapping no doubt hundreds of pictures.

Juice and Happy had pitched in together on a set of quality remote control cars; the boy had gasped loudly and said 'You guys remembered!'.

Of course, he remembered, Abel was Happy's favorite two-legged creature.

"This is one is from Sunshine," he said, grinning shyly at the woman, and Happy found himself relating with the kid. 

Happy didn't like liars, so there was no point in denying the fact that he was doing anything other than eavesdropping on the conversation between Sunshine and Gemma. He was proud of the fact that he already knew most of the information shared, like Melody being Sunshine's foster daughter (a random phonecall had yielded that conversation, Happy always appreciated unexpected Sunshine calls) and her sister being named Zipporah (He learned that early on when they had been talking about how ridiculous their names were). He had _not_ known about her selling weed, and it was hard for him to picture her in any sort of illegal activity, and it raised his blood pressure a little at the notion, and not in a bad way.

But before the subject had changed and she had talked about the supply and demand of less than legal things, it had punched him square in the chest.

Absently, he ran his fingers over the small sun on his arm.

Abel pulled a fuzzy stuffed lion stuffed animal and a huge set of coloring books with markers from the depths of a colorful birthday bag overflowing with rainbow tissue paper. It wasn't anything like he had received from the other partygoers; it didn't have wheels, nor was it related to anything rough and tumble.

Sunshine seemed to realize this at the same time Happy did, and her thick bottom lip got trapped between her teeth as she worried it. Happy knew he was staring.

"I love coloring books!" Abel cried out instead, the lion already tucked under his chin as he devoured the pages of the books with his eyes, trying to flip through them one-handed.

Tara glanced at Sunshine, giving her a brief and thankful look at the reprieve of engine sounds and objects made to be thrown.

"Thank you, aunt Sunshine!"

Happy saw her breath hitch at the title, and her blinding grin told him that she didn't mind at all, and no one corrected him.

Something warm and wild wrapped around Happy's stomach, purring victoriously at the suggestion.

* * *

"SUNSHINE!" Tig called out from a few tables away. "You take my breath away, sweetheart; this is delicious,"

Happy wasn't all that sure how he ended up at this table, with Jax, Tara, the toddlers, Gemma, Sunshine, Nero, Lyla, and Opie. He was at the adult's table. He was thirty years old, he probably shouldn't refer to it as such in his mind, but that's what it was; they were all varying degrees of responsible adults.

Thomas was _enraptured_ by Sunshine. The ten-month-old sat on top of the picnic table in front of her, chattering away to her like they were long lost friends.

"Shameless flirt," Jax commented.

"He's just being polite," Sunshine corrected as the boy wrapped one of her braids around his chubby little fingers. 

"He's his daddy's son," Gemma winked at Jax.

Happy was walking a thin line of 'watching' and 'staring' at them, something easier done when he wasn't close enough to touch them.

Thomas stuffed the braid in his mouth.

Abel ran up to them amidst the laughter and Sunshine trying to retrieve her hair and tapped the woman on the shoulder.

"Hi, honey," she drawled down to him. 

"Thank you for the books and the lion," he said, staring up at her. Toys were strewn across the grass as if a small explosion had gone off, but Thomas had dutifully placed few presents out of potential harm's way, and her gift to him was one of them.

"My pleasure, Abel; I had so much fun shopping for you,"

His little arms wrapped around her neck in a bashful hug, Sunshine wrapping an arm around him without hesitation.

"Aww, Abel," Tara looked down at her boy. "That's so sweet,"

Thomas hollered at his brother and patted his own cheek.

Abel popped up and kissed his cheek before running back to his friends.

"He's usually such a shy kid," Tara looked over at him. "He never initiates with adults,"

"I call it 'the Sunshine effect," Venus offered with a sly grin, delicately sitting next to Nero, accepting the arm wrapped around her shoulder. "People get caught up in her light and never wanna leave,"

Sunshine blushed and looked away from the adults, looking anywhere but at Happy, who was greedily absorbing her presence like a crocodile at high noon.

Thomas caught her attention with a few yells and patted his cheek, looking at her expectantly all the while. 

The adults chuckled.

"Thomas has this little game that grandma Gemma started," Tara clarified, resting her head on Jax's shoulder. "He pats his cheek whenever he wants a kiss,"

"Oh. You're right; he is a shameless flirt," 

Thomas patted his cheek again let out a thrilled squeal as Sunshine cradled his face and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek.

Transfixed was a good word to describe Happy at the moment, as he silently watched the pair, not even _trying_ to school his features. Thomas would pat his cheek or forehead or nose, giggling uncontrollably as Sunshine would dramatically kiss where ever he pointed, even earning himself a raspberry on his stomach.

Happy had never really lived up to his name; he knew that. It wasn't that he was deprived of happiness; the emotion just didn't pour out of him, and certainly not enough to affect others.

Sunshine lived up to her name, and then some. Her smile could give a lightbulb a run for its money; everything about her burned with light and warmth, the daisies someone had tucked into her hair made her innocent, her crinkled eyes made her beautiful in a way that he could hardly comprehend, her vivacious laughter made her ethereal.

He could look at her all day.

The pudgy and suspiciously sticky hand slapping him in the face snapped him out of the moment. 

Thomas's request hit them all the same time, and Sunshine froze, lips parted in surprise as she stared at Happy, who was staring back dumbly.

The tiny hand came down again across his cheek, expectantly patting with increasing force as he waited.

Tara, who would have jumped in to save them both, sat back and watched it happen. Jax had filled her in on Happy's crush, without his knowledge, and she wanted to see this play out just as bad the rest of them.

Thomas hollered at Sunshine, beating Happy's face with his little hand.

"Okay, okay, I hear you," she said, cheeks blushing darker by the second.

Happy forgot how to breathe, how to think. His body felt simultaneously numb and on fire.

Sunshine's hands were smooth and soft where they held his face, pulling him closer to her face. Peaches and vanilla filled Happy's nose. Full lips pressed into his cheek for two seconds, tickling his skin as she hummed. She let go of his face with a fake smooching noise, turning back to Thomas.

He giggled and clapped gleefully.

Happy felt tingly all over like the time Onion had brought home fleas, but this was a _good_ feeling.

"Thomas, quick!" Bobby called out, patting his own cheek, much to the baby's jubilation and the adults paying attention.

"Alright, player," Tara sighed, scooping him up. "I think it's naptime," she smiled at Sunshine before walking into the house.

The remainder of the table was suspended in painfully tense silence. 

"HAPPY!" Abel called out, practically bouncing off the biker's back. "I wanna show my friends how you give me a piggyback ride,"

Happy wondered if his legs could hold him up if he stood.

"Sure thing, little man," he said, Sunshine giving him a quick smile as he got up.

Happy found himself touching his cheek while he slung the kid up on his back, and all throughout his time that was claimed by the birthday boy, even as the kid decided to show off the tattoo on top of his head, earning gasps from the group of kindergarteners.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, five-year-olds weren't all that great at cleaning up after themselves. Piles of used paper plates and juice boxes littered the yard, so Happy was scouring the lawn with a garbage bag. 

Sunshine stuck around to help, even though Tara reassured her that she had helped out more than enough.

Happy acknowledged her as she was pulling streamers off a bush, and there was no denying the fact that he looked while walking up behind her and appreciated everything that he saw.

He silently held open the trash bag for her to throw away the streamers.

"You have a great family, Hap," she said fondly, trying to unweave the crepe paper from around a twig.

"They're okay sometimes," he amended, frowning around the corner of the house at Kozik and Tig as they seemed to have a competition of who could inhale the most helium. Piney was too amused to intervene.

Sunshine glanced over around the corner too and watched the men, and she shook her head with a smile.

"You should hire a full-time babysitter,"

"I don't make that kind of money to front that cost." They had never conversed on the topic of his employment, and both were satisfied with that arrangement.

Sunshine laughed the loud and carefree kind that filled up the hollow parts of Happy, and he brushed his thumb over his cheek again. Sunshine's honeyed eyes caught the motion, and a flush spread across the path of her freckles.

Her mouth wasn't stained blue, as was the fate of most of the kids that had left the party, but Happy was willing to bet his soul that she would taste sweeter than the cake.

She didn't flinch as Happy reached to her head and pulled a leaf from her hair, and the lack of negative reaction meant more to Happy than he thought it would. His hand was still so close to her face; it wouldn't be too hard to touch her, to press the pads of his fingers to her flickering pulse jumping in her neck.

Her chin moved, just a fraction of an inch, an almost subconscious inclination towards his hand.

Warm and smooth and soft, the skin of her jaw felt too delicate under his work-hardened palm and callused fingers as he cupped her face, unable to stop himself as his thumb swiped over her cheek.

His heart flipped and jumped in his chest, thundering like he was running a marathon as he pressed his lips to her cheek.

It was sort of pathetic, how calm he felt just by her proximity, how only her eyes on him made everything seem a little bit better, a little less impossible to do.

Happy had been training himself to do more delicate things since Abel was born, to be more gentle, for his hands to learn more things than just violence. It was all put to the best use he could think of as he kissed Sunshine's cheek, every nerve in his body buzzing with how close she was, how easy it would be to slip his arms around her waist, or how he was less than an inch away from her mouth, close enough to hear the tiny gasp she inhaled at the contact.

His body growled at him as he pulled away from her, hands quietly dropping from her face.

"There. Now we're even."

Big, bright eyes held him in place even though his mind was begging for him to walk away, to create distance even though it was the last thing he wanted.

"You missed," even the way she phrased it implied indifference or maybe amusement; she sounded just as raw as he felt.

"Missed what?"

Happy got shot in the head once. Hardly shot, the bullet had grazed the side of his skull, ripping him an impressive cut, and it barely even hurt. But there had been an instant, the crack of the gun ringing in his ears and the burning explosion tearing across his head; he thought the bullet had tunneled into his brain. Sparks had fizzled behind his eyes, electrifying him like lightning for a split second; he thought for sure the world could see his bones glow.

Sunshine tasted like sweet tea and getting shot in the head.

The inquiry had lived for so long in his head, a thought that bounced around the back of his mind every time she chewed on her lips or smiled. And now, he got to know. But the curiosity was hardly sated.

The kiss was chaste in a way Happy hadn't experienced in his adult life, and who are we kidding, in his adolescence either, eyes shut and lips pressed together, Sunshine's hands on his chest for balance, burning through his shirt.

* * *

This had not been on Sunshine's 'to do' list for the day. It had been on her imaginary one, the old chalkboard in her mind that had grown dusty with neglect. She wasn't sure how long she had wanted to kiss him, but suffice to say it was a long time coming.

Happy was damn near immobile under her touch, a stiff board of a person.

Sunshine pulled away, growing increasingly unsure of herself. Blind panic washed over her. She had been wrong; Venus had been wrong; he was probably serious when he had said _'now we're even,'_ when he kissed her cheek.

He wasn't moving, like, at _all_. She didn't even think he was breathing.

"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat. The memory of putting her hands on his chest was absent from her mind, and she was just glad that they hadn't gone anywhere else while she was being so thoughtless.

"For what?" he asked, voice rougher than usual, which was impressive.

"I just," the scorching burn of humiliation encased her body. "I just gotta little ahead of myself, didn't mean to..." she gestured awkwardly at him, wishing the ground would split open and swallow her whole.

Happy tilted her head at her, a look that she equivalated with puppies, but the motion was less one of innocence but more of a bird of prey calculating something in its head.

Sunshine wondered belatedly if she should feel like she was in danger because it was far from her mind because she was being kissed.

Oh, and this was a _kiss._ The kind that stopped your heart and tore the breath from your lungs, reduced your head to body numbing fireworks, and everything you could do to hold on.

Venus's voice rang in her head, something about gentle and attentive but powerful, and her hands curled into fists around Happy's shirt, pulling him closer, lips merciless and persuasive. Callused fingers held her elbow; his other hand found better use tilting up her chin, knuckles brushing down her throat as he let go.

Her bare toes curled into the grass.

"Are you gonna get married now?"

Sunshine whirled away from Happy, turning to the voice, hand flying to her mouth, Happy staggering back a step.

Abel stood expectantly next to them, holding a string of partially deflated balloons. 

"Abel," Sunshine exhaled, "is something wrong? Do you need something?"

"I was looking for Happy to help me put the batteries in my new cars; Juice had to go,"

Happy glanced at Sunshine and felt like he was being punched in the gut as she quickly licked her lips. He mirrored the action without hesitation.

"Yeah, bud, I can help you,"

"Okay!" he chirped, already taking off in the other direction, back to the picnic tables.

Sunshine scuffed her foot against the grass and smiled bashfully at the ground, index finger tapping her bottom lip.

"I-" he started but had no _idea_ what he was going to say.

"Me too," she looked at him, eyes shining in the best way.

Happy's stomach flip-flopped.

"Okay," he exhaled slowly, scratching the top of his head, a dopey smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have shamelessly stolen a line from 'Elf'. I'm so tired, it's the only way I could make the situation work.
> 
> I would like to make some things VERY clear real quick, something that I should have put sooner.  
> In absolutely no way are the actors portraying these characters involved in whatever sort of a mess I make here. Their likeness is borrowed, that's it, and it's only because it's kinda hard to do this without it.  
> I'm writing this because I watched an actor talk about how they really didn't like fanfiction with 'them' in it.  
> I don't, nor will I ever, write about real people. Just about a completely different character that sorta looks like them, the actor has nothing to do with this, they are the figurehead and the fictitious character is the business doing all the work. I don't even pay that much attention to the actor, most of this shit comes from my head anyway and it loosely (and I mean loosely) fits the description of the actor.  
> Sorry for the long note, I just had to make that clear, mostly for myself and the mortifying business of writing fanfiction.


	19. She

[ ****Some Possible Ambiance**** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEdZFhCEjWI)

* * *

Rationally,  _ logically, _ Happy knew it wasn't the wrench's fault. The engine under his care was a mess, mostly duct tape and crossed fingers, rubber tubing so old that it was hard and cracked.

He glared at the wrench, all the same, knowing Gemma would yell at him if he were to hurl it across the garage. He wanted to though, wanted to hear the satisfying clatter as it connected with the toolbox across the room, wanted to  _ ruin _ something. 

It wasn't a secret that he wasn't a very good mechanic. The inner workings of his own bike, that he knew. He could take apart that engine and put it back together with his eyes closed, but he knew the bare minimum about cars.

ATF wasn't going to be all that forgiving about his usual source of income, and since they were halfway down their throats at the moment, Happy thought it best to stay put at the garage for the time being and not take any... requests.

That also meant that he hadn't driven up to the diner in over two weeks. He couldn't risk an unwanted tail following him up and exposing Sunshine as someone he cared about, or in the case of ATF, a weak link to put pressure on.

Sunshine had understood, at least, she had sounded like she understood from when he had called. Happy could never get his footing during the conversations over the phone, always content to just sit back and listen to her talk about her day and whatever else she felt like talking about. He could hear her go into  _ excruciating  _ detail about a cloud she had seen that day, and sit in rapt attention the whole time. It hadn't gotten to that point yet, but he didn't care if it did.

There was no doubt, no uncertainty, in his mind that he would do anything just to listen to her, to hear her smooth, rich voice speak of everything and nothing, to have his ears be witness to her wild and unbound laughter.

He'd do anything if she asked him to, wouldn't even have to say please.

It didn't help, either, that the kiss had lived center and forefront in his mind for over two weeks. It distracted him to no end, becoming present whenever it saw fit.

Eating cereal? No, the way her fingers curled into his shirt as if she would float away if she didn't.

Taking Onion for a walk? No, how her breath hitched when he had kissed her, a sharp, satisfied noise that echoed in his mind like the ringing of a bell.

An ATF agent following him into the supermarket while he grabbed some groceries for Tara? Nope, just the curling desperation in his stomach to see her again, to slide his hands over her generous body, to taste her again (he wasn't all that picky of  _ where _ ), to feel her jumping pulse on her hot skin, courtesy of none other than him, under his tongue, to get her between a wall and himself and forget everything that wasn't Sunshine.

The bones in his hand groaned as he squeezed the life out of the wrench still caught in his grasp.

It rattled in the toolbox where he had unceremoniously dropped it.

* * *

"Somethin' eatin' at ya, Hap?" Chibs questioned, sidling up to him and sitting on the couch next to him.

Happy tapped a tan finger on the neck of his now warm beer bottle, surveying the Scot.

"I kissed Sunshine," he said instead of brushing him off the way he wanted to, the way he was used to.

Chibs didn't grin conspiratorily at him or clap him on the shoulder; he just looked at him.

Happy glanced away before looking back.

"Alright," he acknowledged with a nod, tipping his beer at Happy as he leaned forward on his knees. "so what's the hang-up?"

"None, nothing," Happy said quickly. He scrubbed his hand roughly over his bristled head and blew out a long breath from his puffed-up cheeks.

"It's just all I can think about now,"

"Ahhh," Chibs said, sipping his beer.

"I've never-, I haven't," he said haltingly, unable to find his words. He knew his brother wouldn't laugh at him, but it didn't make the syllables any easier.

"I know you're far from a virgin, Happy," Chibs raised an eyebrow.

Happy huffed out a breath, annoyed and a little tired.

"That's not it; I've just never  _ felt _ it before," without his consent, his hand clapped over his heart, Chibs' eyes tracking the motion, and he seemed to understand. 

"Was it like this, with Fiona?"

"She was the first thought in my head when I woke up and the last when I fell asleep," Chibs affirmed.

It gave Happy equal parts of terror and solace.

"Thought she'd be the only thing I ever loved. Then Kerrianne was born,"

Happy took several gulps of his warm beer to chase away any creeping thoughts that he was less than ready for.

The topic of conversation and sobered the scot, crinkling the edges of his eyes with worry.

It had become a habit now, whenever Happy was nervous or unoccupied, to run his thumb over the tattoo on the inside of his elbow, even though it was long since healed and was smooth to the touch. It had overtaken his old nervous habit of biting his nails well past the point of blood, something that Juice would call 'character development.'

Chibs, always more observant that anyone could give him credit for, caught the motion and peered closer to see the new mark. It was pretty damn common for Happy to show up with new ink stretching over his skin, and it was always met with benign curiosity or indifference.

"New tat?" Chibs inquired, leaning closer.

Happy's thumb stilled over the symbol, mind running faster than he could keep up with as it deliberated on the pros and cons of showing Chibs. They were the same thing, the pro, and the con, being that Chibs would see it.

He moved his thumb and bared the inside of his elbow.

Clever eyes scanned it, taking in the simplicity and size, and no doubt glaringly obvious meaning.

"A sun," he hummed appreciatively.

"Yup," Happy grunted.

"I think she'd find it adorable," he shrugged, sipping at his beer.

Happy thought about playing dumb, but even he wasn't that stupid. He ignored the fact that Chibs had called it adorable.

"It wouldn't freak her out?"

"Lad, she's known you for months and hasn't been freaked out yet; I think she's passed the 'spooking off' period, don't you think?"

"Don't really wanna test that theory," he grumbled.

Several moments passed in companionable silence, listening to the clubhouse's din of conversation and the sky darken through the windows.

"When this is all over," he gestured vaguely, elucidating to the ATF investigation. "You go see her, alright?"

"Oh, don't worry, I plan on it,"

This time, Chibs did grin at him in that conspiratory way, sharp and a little feral, Glasglow smile making him all the more wicked.

"Tha's my boy," he stood from the couch and rubbed his hand over Happy's head like he was messing up his nonexistent hair, and walked away.

Happy settled back on the couch, losing himself in thought until he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

The screen read  **_ Sunshine _ ** , and the smile that took over his face couldn't be helped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy is definitely one of those men that worships the ground that his woman walks on, at least, my version of him.  
> I didn't make it very long, did I? Writing a book is fucking hard, you guys. Especially when you want it to go a certain direction and don't want it to be just 'fuck all' on the page, like this monstrosity is.  
> I'll say that maybe I'll be posting a chapter a month on here. Maybe. I cannot speak for future me (almost said my real name, yikes) all I can say is that she's a fickle little bitch and you never know what you'll be getting. Maybe this will be my cure for other story, I'll shitpost on here and then write poetry elsewhere. I hope so.  
> This was supposed to be the whole club reacting to the tattoo, but that's not how it turned out.


	20. Party time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 'I hate Ima' Fanclub. She's a homewrecker, but remember, darlings, it takes two to wreck a home. Meaning, the men are not even close to getting off without blame.

"So you're actually going to the party?" Lyla questioned.

"Are the parties really that bad?" Sunshine scrunched her shoulders halfway to her ears.

"Well," Lyla raised an eyebrow, shifting the infant in her arms. "They're not really your... style,"

Sunshine had the other baby, rhythmically patting his butt as she swayed. The twins were four months old and growing like weeds; Sunshine was confused about how tiny little Lyla had survived the pregnancy.

"That's what Happy said too," she mumbled, leaning down to smell the baby in her hold. She was only human, and the smell of babies was damn near addictive.

"Wait, he wasn't the one that invited you?"

This wasn't supposed to be a social call; it was just supposed to be dropping Melody off at the Winston house, saying hi to Lyla, and then going to the clubhouse. That isn't what happened, though; she was sitting on the couch with a sleeping baby tucked under her chin.

"No, Venus did."

"Ahh," Lyla nodded, peeking up at Sunshine with a look of mischief. "She's an excellent wing woman, isn't she? She watched the kids for a whole weekend on mine and Opie's anniversary,"

"I think I could only handle half of your kids," Sunshine laughed, rubbing her cheek on the soft downy hair of baby Benji. 

"Me too," Lyla joked.

"So really," Sunshine sighed, suddenly nervous for the party. She knew better than to assume a dinner party with red wine and small talk, but now she didn't honestly know  _ what  _ to expect. "What are the parties like?"

"Booze, pussy, and violence," Lyla deadpanned.

"Oh my god," Sunshine shut her eyes.

"Are you driving yourself?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't like it, leave. It's that simple. The guys and their entourage are hard to get used to, and they know that. If you can't handle it, just go home. And for your first time at a Club party, don't drink anything other than bottled water, okay? I don't wanna scare you, but don't bum a smoke off anyone and don't drink anything."

"I feel like you're prepping me for war,"

Lyla laughed quietly.

"The parties were fun before we got married, but now," she shook her head, surveying the house scattered in toys and clothes and shoes and evidence of well-loved children. "Opie only goes for a few hours. He's back home changing diapers with me by ten-thirty,"

"You know, Melody is very vocal about the men she interacts with during the day," Sunshine dropped her voice a little as the baby squirmed closer, sighing contently once his face was smashed against her neck. "She really doesn't like men, at all, but she hasn't once complained about Opie,"

"Yeah?" Lyla smiled, a pleasing sort of stretched lips that made Sunshine understand how quickly Opie had fallen for her.

"You got a good one, miss Lyla."

* * *

The second Sunshine pulled into the driveway; she felt  _ very  _ overdressed.

Music throbbed out of the building, people she didn't recognize milled around, the women in startling degrees of undress.

She paused with her fingers over the keys still in the ignition. She could drive home, shoot Happy a quick text excusing herself from the interaction; she knew he wouldn't be mad.

She glanced to the passenger side of her car where she had set the pan of brownies she had made, neatly wrapped in tinfoil, and felt very  _ very  _ stupid for having made them. She could smell the cigarette smoke through her car even though she hadn't even opened the door yet; everyone she could see was wearing some sort of leather or looked like they had been or just gotten out of prison. All of them look life hardened and tough, and Sunshine deemed it more than safe to assume that most of them were actual,  _ literal _ ,  **_ guaranteed _ ** criminals.

And she had brought brownies.

Someone wrapped their knuckles on the window, and she yelped, whipping her head to the left, her hand clapped over her mouth.

"Sorry, love," said the man, looking apologetic. "Didn't mean to scare ya,"

She couldn't remember his name, but he was the Scottish man with the scars on his cheeks.

"It's okay," she amended. 

He continued looking at her, partially crouched to look through the window, brows furrowed in concern.

"Are ya comin' or goin'?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

"Happy's here, ya know. And I don't think he's even drank anything yet,"

"Okay," she nodded, gathering her courage. "I'm coming out,"

"Atta lass," he said with a wild grin, the scars on his cheeks working better than any dimple Sunshine had ever seen.

Ensuring the doors were locked, Sunshine walked up the building's drive, brownie pan held between nervous hands.

When she had gotten ready for the party, she made herself not care what she was wearing. Skinny jeans and one of the off-shoulder floral printed shirts that Venus had bought for her. Nothing fancy, nothing showy, just the way she liked it.

Try as she might, as she walked the cracked concrete under her converse that led to the open garage doors, she couldn't help but notice the mini skirts and  _ long _ pale legs poking out from underneath and the scarily high heeled shoes the women teetered around on.

Wildly out of her depth, sure, but at least she could walk down a flight of stairs without breaking her ankle.

The garage doors were open, showing the inside of the garage and clubhouse. More people inside than out were grouped around the pool tables and couches, standing at the bar and leaning against the walls. The lights were dim, and there was a haze of questionable smelling smoke; Sunshine had never thought about what 'drugs, sex, and rock n' roll would  _ feel  _ like, but this would be it.

"SUNSHINE!" someone slurred, and she turned to see Bobby on the couch with a woman wrapped around him. He smiled up at her, hardly able to open his eyes.

"Hi, Bobby," she said quickly, walking past him. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had a feeling that if she'd stayed longer, she'd see things she didn't want to.

"You came!" a sultry southern voice exulted, and Sunshine was beyond relieved to see Venus sitting at the bar between Nero and Tig.

"Yeah," she said, stepping into Venus' embrace, almost smothered by Chanel and her cleavage.

"What'd you bring?" Venus looked at the dish in her hands, and she felt heat creeping up her neck.

"Brownies,"

Tig moaned obnoxiously and took them from her grasp, the balled up tinfoil bouncing off someone's head as he tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.

"I always made friends with food in high school, figured I might as well see if it works in adulthood too," she tried to joke, even though it was entirely truthful.

"See, Nero? I told you she was the most precious thing ever to walk the earth," Venus crooned, kissing Sunshine on the cheek.

"I didn't know people still baked," Nero said with a smile, managing to grab a brownie from Tig, who had yet to open his eyes.

"Are they pot brownies?" Nero questioned around his mouthful.

"No,"

"You could make a fortune off pot goodies," he said, eyebrows raising as he took another bite.

"I did, I mean, I used to, in college," Sunshine admitted, feeling the need to show her deviance to fit in.

Venus gasped. 

"Not my innocent Sunshine," she tried to act scorned but couldn't help her smile.

"I'm not all that innocent, Miss Van Damn," she replied modestly, earning a laugh from the woman in question.

"I'd love to see your depravity, darlin'," Venus purred.

"I love your baking, Sunshine, but please don't try and seduce my woman," Tig said, eyes still closed, arms wrapped protectively around the pan.

"Now, Alexander, this is just how girls are," Venus corrected, manicured finger tapping the hollow of Sunshine's throat where her necklace rested against her skin. 

Nero shook his head. "I need another beer,"

* * *

ATF was gone, the looming threat of RICO hanging over their head was gone with it, for now at least.

For the moment, everything was fine, daresay, good. And Happy was desperate to soak up the peace like a dehydrated sponge.

Jax had pulled him into the chapel for a few minutes to talk about a... job opportunity that someone in the Italian mafia offered him. It was a simple logistics conversation, the emotionless kind that was not all too hard to go over.

There was a quick knock at the door, and Chibs ducked his head in, looking at the two of them. 

"You almost done?"

"Yeah, we're done," Jax smiled, thumping Happy on the shoulder.

"Sunshine's here," Chibs said to Happy. "She's at the bar with Venus,"

"Okay," Happy said, nodding his head, wondering why he was suddenly nervous.

He chose to ignore the shared smile between the two other men and brushed past them into the clubhouse.

He hadn't seen her face to face since Abel's birthday party two and a half weeks earlier when they had kissed. She called him practically every other night to talk, or texted him, or sent him pictures of Peaches.

He caught Venus' attention before anyone else' before he made it to the bar, and he felt flayed by her look like she knew everything about him, everything he had ever said to Sunshine. It wasn't a bad look; it wasn't like she was upset with him, just that she knew everything.

Omnipotent.

Happy held no allusions that Venus didn't know that they had kissed, as he knew that she and Sunshine were friends now, and Venus was  _ very _ good at getting information out of people, and that included Sunshine.

* * *

Sunshine was warm, which was the opposite of ironic, but it still made Happy feel a little like laughing. 

The conversation topics changed every few minutes, the people participating rotating almost like clockwork, people stopping up at the bar and sparking conversation with the woman that exuded gentleness, who had somehow gotten ahold of a dog that was wandering around.

It was a hideous little thing, Happy had strong feelings about chihuahuas, but the rat curled in her lap and fell fast asleep, her long brown fingers rubbing circles behind his ears.

Happy wasn't above being jealous of a dog.

"Tell me about them," Sunshine asked, leaning her head closer to Happy so he could hear her over the noise. They had swiveled on their stools, so their back was to the bar and watched the people in the room.

"The girl flirting with Kozik," he nodded towards the people in question. "She works at Diosa,"

"Diosa?"

"A brothel. More or less. Nero runs it with Jax,"

"Oh my," Sunshine breathed. "Does he know?"

"Oh, he will when she asks for a downpayment when the door close behind them,"

"Shouldn't we, I don't know, warn him?" she asked, tilting her head closer for Happy to hear, her warm, minty breath hitting the side of his neck. Like snakes, her braids slipped off her shoulder and landed on his arm.

"There's no fun in that," he leaned his head closer too, even though he knew she could hear him just fine.

She pursed her lips to fend off a smile.

"That girl there? Dancing with Half-Sack? She burned down her ex's house and stole his dog," They both glanced down at the dog in her lap.

"Jesus,"

Their shoulders were snug against each other now.

"Tig is deathly afraid of dolls,"

"You're kidding,"

"I wish,"

"What else?"

"Venus kissed Jax once,"

Sunshine laughed, and since Happy was touching her, he could  _ feel it _ ; the way she shook with it, was close enough to see the detail of her throat as she threw her head back to laugh, how her necklace was a little pendant of a cactus, how she had a tiny scar on the underside of her jaw.

His whole body felt threateningly warm.

"I would have loved to see that; he must have been surprised," she wiped the corner of her eye.

"To say the least,"

"Tell me more. I wanna know everything about these guys."

Paranoid Happy would have seen this as a red flag, a spy asking for details and personal dirt to use against them later, a double agent.

Head over heels Happy, who was sitting at a bar next to a beautiful girl during a raging party and was still working on his first beer, didn't have a second thought run through his head.

Juice would call it 'character development.'

Happy told her about how almost every club member had been in a failing marriage that ended in divorce and estranged children. He told her about the mugshot wall and the back story all he could remember, how Piney and JT had started the club after returning from the war, that Gemma had crows as pets, and that Bobby was a professional Elvis impersonater.

Happy's heart hiccuped in his chest as Sunshine's fingers wove between his, resting comfortably where their thighs were pressed together.

Safe to say that Happy had skipped this part of his life, the hand-holding, the conversation, keeping close just for the sake of not being alone.

* * *

Sunshine hadn't caught the reason that Jax had beckoned Happy towards him or why the rest of the Sons were gathered in a half-circle around the apparent leader, but Happy had  _ literally  _ growled as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from hers.

Whether or not the rumbling noise had flipped and twisted Sunshine's stomach wasn't something she was willing to talk about.

* * *

Happy watched in his periphery as Croweaters came over to talk to Sunshine, and he felt himself bristle. He knew how mean they could be and how Sunshine wasn't made for the cruelties of the world.

He silently willed Jax to talk faster.

* * *

"I love your blouse, it's darling," one of the women said, and Sunshine felt hands pass over her arms, feeling the fabric. It didn't feel predatory or unkind, just people with little to no personal space.

"Thank you; Venus helped me pick it out,"

"That woman is a fashion icon," another sighed, leaning her narrow arm against the bar. All of them were narrow, proportioned like birds with smudged eyeliner and messy hair.

She wanted to wrap them all in blankets and feed them a good southern meal.

They asked her questions about her life, where she worked, where she lived. They were beyond impressed by her line of work and her living arrangements, and Sunshine chastised herself for ever feeling down about her circumstances. 

Poorly blended foundation covered track marks up one of the woman's arm and the mottled bruises around another's neck. 

"If I'm ever here again in daylight hours, I'll cook you all a proper meal; how does that sound?" she offered, eyeing the visible hipbones peeking out from low-rise skirts and cropped tops.

She was met with a chorus of assent.

"I brought a pan of brownies, but Tig took them out of my hands as soon as I walked in," she joked.

"Is that what he was eating? He almost bit Kozik for trying to take one," one of the girls laughed. 

"So," another started, taking a seat next to Sunshine. Her eye makeup was smudgy, but her eyes were bright. "You plan on going home with Happy? You want him to be your old man?"

"What? No," Sunshine laughed nervously and shook her head. "I fully intend on going home alone,"

"I wish someone looked at me like he looks at you," another piped up forlornly, her hair a mess of red curls.

"It took me an entire year before they remembered my name," another pouted, curling a strand of hair around her finger, hip jutted out.

"Why do you girls hang around here anyway?" Sunshine asked, curiosity finally winning over and a little desperate to shift the subject away from herself.

"In the hopes that one of them will take us home," a girl answered with a small shrug. "and ask us to stay."

Sunshine's heart sank a little, and she wished there was enough time in the night to explain to these girls that they didn't need a man in a leather vest to tell them their worth, that they could be more than what they believe.

"I'm just here to fuck," a different woman said, who had only just walked up and was fixing her lip gloss in her compact mirror. Embossed in white glitter around the edge of the mirror read, 'IMA TITE'

"More like fuck up," a girl mumbled under her breath, not meeting the glare Ima threw at her.

* * *

Even under the chatter and music, Happy heard the clack of knee-high white stilettos on the floor, the calling card of Ima. He cringed when they came to a stop in front of the bar where Sunshine was surrounded by Croweaters, who she was getting along with spectacularly.

Happy  _ itched  _ for Jax to hurry up.

_ "Ima, DON'T!" _ Someone yelped, and all heads whipped to the bar. Happy felt his blood pressure rise before he even turned his head.

Though she was taller than Sunshine, it was clear that Ima wasn't the one in control of the situation. Her hand was poised to slap, but her skeletally thin wrist was caught in the hold of Sunshine, the juxtaposition of her dark fingers wrapped around the pale skin of Ima burned into Happy's head.

"Bitch," Ima seethed, ripping her hand out of Sunshine's hold, and grabbed at her again with clawed fingers, only to have her hand grabbed and twisted to the side, hard enough for Ima to squawk and gasp.

Sunshine let her pull away, ready to deflect again.

In a flurry of cheap perfume and  _ way _ too many sequins, Ima pulled her bag over her shoulder and stormed out of the compound, cursing under her breath the whole time.

Happy only then realized his jaw had dropped somewhere at the beginning of this, and he had yet to close it.

"I feel like I missed something important," Chibs remarked, watching her go.

Happy led the way to the bar with a long stride.

Sunshine brushed off her shirt and sat back down on the stool, reaching for her water bottle.

"What was that about?" Jax asked at the same time that Happy asked, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sunshine assured. "She didn't actually hit me, just tried to,"

Happy scanned her whole body, looking to see if she was telling the truth. She looked just as put together as always.

He felt  _ in awe _ . His entire perception of her was pitched on its axis.

Maybe she wasn't as innocent as he had thought and seemed capable enough to maybe live this life. And maybe, the cruelties of life weren't ready for Sunshine.

The thought made his heart thunder.

"Why did she try and hit you?" Jax crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her.

"Oh, it was nothing," Sunshine brushed off. Happy sidestepped so he could stand closer, and she leaned into his presence, almost subconsciously.

"Ima said it was only a matter of time before Happy would crawl into her bed," one of the croweaters offered, filling in the blanks for Sunshine.

Jax raised an eyebrow.

"And Sunshine said that she'd drive him to the free clinic when that happened out of pity to get an STD test,"

The laughter was a little deafening.

Sunshine covered her face with her hands.

"I don't know where that came from; I didn't  _ want  _ to hurt her feelings, I never say mean things like that," she said between her fingers. 

"Gemma would be proud," Jax grinned, face a little red from laughter. 

"Where'd you learn to block a hit like that, anyway?"

"Mandatory training when you start doing foster care," she raised a shoulder, flushing under the attention. "You have to learn how to restrain a violent child; I just used a little more force."

"Guess it works on emaciated pornstars too," Chibs grunted with a little bit of a wheeze, wiping away a tear from his eye.

"I guess," Sunshine echoed.

"As always, Sunshine, it was a pleasure," Jax reached out to her with a curled fist, and she smiled at him in confusion, reciprocating the fist bump.

Happy sat on the stool next to her as everyone walked away, the last being Tig, who presented her with an empty dish.

"Did you wash it?" She questioned, glancing up at the blue-eyed man.

"No. I licked it clean."

"Oh," she said, waiting for him to crack and say that he did wash it, but Happy knew for a fact that he had licked it clean.

"I'd kill for your baking," Tig said solemnly.

"I believe you," Sunshine nodded, earning herself a crinkled eye smile.

As they watched Tig retreat into the crowd to find his woman, Sunshine turned to Happy.

"Booze, pussy, and violence,"

He frowned at her.

"Lyla warned me how these parties are, and I gotta say, she really hit the nail on the head,"

Happy snorted, amused and bewildered. 

"Do you wanna leave?" he asked quietly.

"Do you think Ima's coming back?"

"No."

"There's your answer," she sighed, taking a drink of her water and screwing the cap back on, not letting the bottle out of her sight.

The rest of the night passed like that, sitting shoulder to shoulder at the bar, fingers in a tangle, watching people in silence, speaking only when they saw fit.

Happy's heart didn't calm for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I was a seasonal worker, I'm all done and having nothing to do with my boredom, so here ya go.
> 
> Why do we like this show? I was reading little trivia things because I couldn't remember certain things, and it's like, horrible. Whatever. I'm still writing my fanfiction because I'm hopeless.
> 
> I'm just going to throw out there that I am an avid Chibs and Juice shipper, and I'll try and keep that on the down-low if that's what you want. Unless you want it as a bit of a background relationship because I AM SO DOWN FOR THAT. 
> 
> In this fic, Opie is happy with his life and doesn't wanna die as he did in the show. He is in love with his wife and his life and has two more kids. That boy deserves happiness too, and by fuck, I'll write him a good life.


	21. Aesthetic board? Mood board?

So I took it upon myself out of my 'unemployed boredom' to create a Pinterest board for this story because apparently, I'm _that_ person now.

Go to it if you'd like, disregard it if you don't. I have two brain cells at the moment and they're not working in tandem. 

[Here's the link.](https://pin.it/2BuZCGG)


	22. Roller Skates?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, sorry, but Happy tries his hand at flirting so it's fine.

Happy had been hungry all week. It was the kind of hunger that scratched at the back of his head and sharpened its claws on his spine, making him antsy and restless. 

It wasn't the kind of hunger that eating could fix. 

As always, the listlessness led him to the diner; driving there was second nature, he didn't dream very often, but when he did, sometimes it was just the calming drive to the restaurant and the bubbling excitement that he would see Sunshine soon.

All of his hopes were dashed the second he saw Sunshine. She was bussing a table; it was a Tuesday morning, meaning Melody was at school and unable to help. It wasn't busy, four or five people quietly eating their food to the singing of Sam Cooke.

Just seeing her, simply  _ looking _ at her, the hunger curled in his stomach and sang of something insatiable and ravenous.

_ So, _ Happy put together, eyes loving the cinch of her apron and the tiny dip in her neckline.  _ This isn't a hunger that food can help _ .

It was safe to say that he wasn't' the kind of person to take things slow and steady; he was a live-hard/die-hard person; you can't take things slow when you don't know if you're going to get murdered the next day. Which is a long way to say that he hadn't really ever wanted something that wasn't walking right into his hands. He wasn't patient like that. Sure he could be on a stakeout for days on end, but this was way different. When he wanted a warm body in his bed, a croweater was always there to snag.

Sunshine had kissed him approximately  _ twice  _ in the months they had known each other. Once at Abel's birthday party, and when she was leaving the party a week and a half prior.

Happy kinda, sorta,  _ really _ wanted to push her up against the wall or pull her into the bathroom.

* * *

"Why don't you wear rollerskates like the carhops used to in the sixties?" Happy didn't have to glance up at Sunshine; his eyes hadn't really left her the whole time he went to his seat.

Sunshine didn't bother pulling out her notepad; she just leaned her hip on the booth across from him, an action that would  _ perpetually _ distract him.

His stomach growled.

"Oh god," she laughed, carefree and loud. "Can you imagine?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"Why? Do you really wanna follow me around all day to catch my fatass when it falls?" she joked, shaking her head.

Happy tilted his head back and grinned his shark grin at her, all sharp teeth and savage voracity.

"Happily."

A sure-footed blush dashed across her round cheeks as she bit her lip, eyes widening at his smile. Sunshine blew out a shaky breath and picked some imaginary lint off her apron while battling for control over her blush. She still never knew what to do when she had this kind of attention, and her stomach fluttered at the thought of it happening more often.

"I'm going to um," she flicked her eyes to his quickly, "I'm going to get your pie,"

Happy couldn't find it in himself to be ashamed as he watched her walk back to the kitchen, the ass in question the only thing in his eyesight and brain and would likely remain that way for the rest of the day.

When she thought she was out of his sight but was visible in the convex mirrors on the wall, Happy watched her lean against the counter in the kitchen and aggressively fan herself with a towel, unable to keep the smile off her face. 

Happy started a mental list of first date ideas to ask Venus about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not apologize.  
> Also, when I say 'his stomach growled' it's because he's hungry for nothing but Sunshine.


	23. First date, kinda nervous

"If you take her to a bowling alley, Happy Lowman, I will never speak to you again," Venus warned, pointing a french manicured finger at him.

"The movies?"

"Ugh, what are you? Sixteen?"

Happy threw his head back and growled. "I might as well be, I've never done this before,"

"You've never gone on a date before?" Venus clacked away at the keyboard in front of her, immaculately shaped brow arched in skepticism.

"No."

The typing stopped.

"Sweetheart, look at me,"

Happy sighed but did as he was asked.

"I just want it to go great, V; we both know how I am with people,"

"Take her somewhere cute and unique. Take her to a nice little cafe, or go watch the lobsters fight in the tank at the supermarket, it doesn't matter, because you'll be together,"

"Tig took you to see the lobsters, didn't he?"

"Yes."

Happy tapped the top of the counter as he thought. Juice was his usual to interrogate when it came to this sort of thing, but he figured he'd better go straight to the horse's mouth for what a woman wants in terms of a date.

Three different women were eyeing him, and he hadn't expected much different the second he had stepped foot in Diosa Norte, but his eyes slid right over them like they were part of the decor. It wasn't that he hadn't understood the expression 'I only have eyes for one person,' it's just that he never thought he'd get to experience it.

His gaze locked onto something on the desk in front of Venus, and inspiration struck.

"Thanks, Venus," he said, practically running from the building.

"Good luck, darlin'," she called after him.

* * *

Peaches had easily tripled in size since he last held her, which meant that she was a bit of an armful.

"You don't have to hold her," Sunshine said, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Seventy pounds of dog was cradled in his arms like a baby, and she gently batted at his face with her paw, pink tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, slobbering on his arm.

"You tell  _ her  _ that," he joked, body on edge. He had seen inside of her house months ago, but he hadn't been  _ in  _ it, and though he was just sitting in the foyer, he was a little overwhelmed by how much it felt like a home.

Personality and life dripped from the walls, framed pictures, paintings, key racks and shoes piled by the door, plants blooming in every corner, dog toys littering the floor, and Melody's backpack spilled over the kitchen table.

"So, where are we going? I love surprises, but I'm a wretch at waiting for them," she smiled sunnily at him, her hair separated into two buns on either side of her head. Happy wondered if there was ever a time he had a coherent thought while looking at her because his brain seemed to short circuit and slam ninety miles an hour into a brick wall every time his eyes so much as  _ landed _ on her. 

"Uh," now that he was actually  _ taking  _ her there, it sounded like a goddamn awful idea.

"Do you like... pottery?"

"Pottery? Like a ceramics museum?"

"No, like making mugs and plates on a pottery wheel..."

Sunshine's face was blank for a few seconds before it split into easily the most beautiful smile Happy had ever seen in his entire life, and his breath hitched in his chest.

"You're taking me to Color Me Mine?"

He nodded sagely.

Sunshine laughed and shook her head, and stepped closer to him. Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, she leaned down and kissed him, quick and sweet, the warmth of the touch heating him down to his bones. If Happy had enough control to open his eyes, he could probably see right down her shirt, and damn if that wasn't a sledgehammer to the spinal cord.

Peaches wagged her tail between them, squirming to get in on it.

"Oh dear god, please wait until I leave the house,  _ sickening _ ," Melody wailed as she thundered down the stairs.

Sunshine straightened up and rolled her eyes with her cheeks pinkened, an action that was caught between being holy and sacrilegious.

Melody allowed her to fuss over her for a few seconds, pulling her hair out of her hood, zipping up her backpack, asking her if she had finished all of her homework.

"Yes, yes, I'm all good, can I go?" Melody asked, her voice on the verge of whining as she craned her neck to see out the window.

"Yeah, alright, be good. I'll pick you up at nine sharp, deal?"

"Deal," Melody reciprocated the high five and stepped in front of Happy, narrowing her eyes to stare into his soul.

"You have lipgloss on your mouth," she deadpanned.

Happy licked his lips, and she squealed in disgust, hardly sparing a moment to pet Peaches' head before she raced out the door.

Sunshine laughed and ducked her head out the door, waving at the car that had just pulled into the driveway.

"You two are a riot," she sighed as the car drove off with a honk.

Happy smiled back, the sharp one with loose morals and shark-like intentions. "Oh, I can show you a riot,"

* * *

"Is that Happy's bike by the garage?" Opie asked, glancing back at the teenage girl buckling her seatbelt.

"Yep," she shoved her backpack down to the floorboards. "Sunshine and him are going on a date," she rolled her eyes, taking one of the candies Ellie offered her.

"A  _ date _ ?" Opie didn't mean to sound as  _ utterly astounded _ as he did.

"Yeah," she wrinkled her nose. "They were kissing when I came downstairs,"

Opie couldn't help the bark of laughter that burst from his chest as he shook his head, eyes on the road.

Well damn. It looks like the Tacoma Killer could be domesticated after all.

* * *

Happy felt like flying.

Maybe this was why Jax seemed so invincible, now that he had Tara. Happy felt like he could take on the whole world and win, his motorcycle rumbling beneath him gobbling up the asphalt, Sunshine tucked up against his back, arms wrapped around his waist.

Happy had never been more alive.

* * *

"Stop trying to peek," Happy chastised, trying to angle his body in front of the cup in his hands.

"I am not," Sunshine laughed, making a show of looking away from him and to the partially constructed vase spinning lopsided on her wheel.

"You would make a shitty poker player, can't even lie with a straight face," Happy grumbled.

"You know what? I'm taking that as a compliment. I  _ like _ being a shitty liar,"

Happy hummed, a smile turning up the corner of his mouth.

"I know all of your tells; you'd never be able to lie to me,"

Sunshine snorted. "You think I don't know your tells too?"

"I don't lie,"

"Bullshit, you're a deer in the headlights when you lie; it's almost funny,"

Happy turned to face her, frowning but curious.

"When have I lied to you?"

"Every time you pretended to consider something other than pie," she joked, the shine in her eye was addicting in a way that Happy never wanted to kick it.

"You got me," he shrugged, turning back to his project, listening to the delicious sound of Sunshine's laughter.

* * *

* * *

"Just so you know," Sunshine said, tossing her purse into her car. "I don't let anyone in my house after a first date, just on principle. It has nothing to do with you," she teased.

Her eyes were visibly sparkling even though it was dark outside, the yellow light of the car's interior flooding out onto the driveway.

Happy stood a few feet away, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching her every movement as if she'd disappear if he blinked.

"It's a good rule," he commented.

"Yeah. It's kept me out of trouble,"

"Well, if you're ever looking for trouble," Happy shrugged a shoulder, unable to tame his smile as her face split into an easy grin.

Every second he had dreamt of this moment was hardly a shadow in comparison to the reality of Sunshine melting into his hands and against his body, soft and full.

Since he had never been on a date before, he was a little unsure of what 'first date etiquette' was and where exactly it was appropriate to put his hands.

Sunshine didn't seem to mind his palms cupping her face, and like before, she had two handfuls of his shirt, and she was pulling him closer.

_ God _ , she tasted like the ice cream they had gotten across the street from the Color Me Mine and her honey lipgloss.

Her back gently hit the side of the car as she drew him closer yet, making him pin her against the vehicle. She was an interesting contradiction of shy and bold, a spinning wheel constantly rotating between the two actions. It was almost as if she would forget herself and reach for more, her tongue sliding against the seam of his lips and fingers tightening on his shirt, then she would remember and be embarrassed about it.

This observation was happening in the part of Happy's mind that was capable of stringing together sentences, which at the moment was far from being the central and in charge portion.

Happy worried that his lips were too chapped and his method too rough and barbaric, or that maybe his hands were too callused to be touching something as soft as her face, but every ounce of apprehension took its leave as Sunshine arched her back with a sigh, fingers migrating to the collar of his cut and dragging him stronger against her body.

* * *

Sunshine couldn't remember the last time someone had been plastered against her like this, and she  _ certainly _ couldn't recall it ever feeling this good. She had gotten an idea the handful of times she had hugged him of an incomplete estimate of what she'd be dealing with, but  _ oh  _ how she was wrong.

Happy kissed like a man who spent every day thinking he was going to die the next. Without hesitation, without fear, a dizzying cocktail of ferocity and gentility, hunger and moderation, it filled up her head with the memory of listening to the cicadas buzzing in the curling haze of the Mississippi heat in August while the thunderheads rolled in.

She sighed at the memory, pressing her body against the hard line of his torso, breathing in the scent of motor oil and leather. Never once would she have thought that she would like those particular smells, but since she liked Happy, it was only a matter of time.

Lips trailed down the cut of her jaw, only made easier when she tilted her head back out of instinct, an involuntary, breathless sound escaping her when his tongue flicked over her pulse, quick and scaldingly hot.

_ La Cucaracha _ jingled through the air, and both of them froze.

"Shit," she whispered shakily, unsure if she could hold herself up if he were to back away.

"What is that noise?" he mumbled against her throat, sending shivers ricocheting through her body.

"That's the, uh," he kissed the hollow of her throat, "the alarm to go get Melody, I have to get her at nine sharp,"

"Right," his voice rumbled in his chest, and she could feel it, and it sent butterflies fluttering up her spine.

Happy carefully extracted himself from her hold and stepped back to watch her slip into her car on trembling legs.

"Good night, Happy," she said quietly out her window., bottom lip caught between her teeth, cheeks dark, and eyes bright.

"Good night, Sunshine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished watching season 15 of Supernatural and I am wholly destroyed. I knew how it was going to end via spoilers but Jesus fuck if I didn't SOB for the last thirty minutes of the last episode.  
> I have very VERY strong feelings about how the Dean and Cas situation was treated and I will be more than willing to lament but this is not the time or place.


	24. Mine and Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Lelawrence. I didn't forget you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find The Walking Dead reference, I'll write you a very shitty poem.

Gemma, for all of her talents, wasn't subtle.

She leered at Happy over the rim of her beer bottle, craning her neck this way and that, looking at his face and body.

Jax frowned at her.

"Mom, are you checking out Happy?"

All eyes turned to them.

Dramatically, Gemma rolled her eyes, swatting her son's chest with the back of her hand. 

"God, Jackson, no. He's got too many tattoos, I'm trying to see if a hickey will catch on the light,"

Bobby snorted, and Chibs stood from the couch and handed Juice his beer as he walked to the hitman.

Happy growled at the Scotsman, whose hand gripped the top of his head like a basketball and tipped his head back, exposing his throat. Chibs hummed as he tipped his head left and right, inspecting his neck.

"Nope, we're all clear. I'm not taking off his clothes to check for more, Gem; I love you, but please don't make me,"

The men chuckled into their drinks while Gemma stared at him, eyes squinted and lips pursed.

Happy wasn't in the business of praying, but he sent one up just in case. The club walls were more than privy to stories and every graphic, lewd detail possible, but he'd sooner cut out his tongue than speak of Sunshine in an echo of that way. Wax poetic about the way her laugh filled him in ways he never knew he was empty, sure. Voice anything other than they went on a date? Well, then, there goes his tongue.

Her wicked and cunning eyes passed over him once more, but she kept her mouth shut as if she sensed his silent plea.

* * *

"How good are you with a screwdriver?"

There was a joke in there somewhere, no matter how grotesque, about how good he was with a screwdriver or an icepick and that he knew his way around every manner of pointy things.

"I can manage," he offered slowly, taking the tool Jim handed him with confusion.

"Good. Fix the cash register."

"Please," Sunshine added, giving Happy a smile that made the earth heave and dance underneath him.

 _God_ , the wars he'd start for that smile.

"Yeah, fine, please, the pie's on the house if you can get the damn thing open," Jim grumbled, waving dismissively at them while he walked back to his seat by his friends on the other side of the peninsula.

"You guys couldn't figure it out?" he asked, eyeing the row of usuals sitting at the counter.

"Arthritis," one called out.

"Not my job," said another.

Happy sighed.

Hopping the counter in place of taking the extra fifteen steps to go under the flip-top, he landed within touching distance of Sunshine.

"I told him that he should call the company that made it, but he's such a stubborn old man," Sunshine said, close enough that Happy could count her freckles if he wanted. 

And trust that he wanted.

"I can do it," Happy shrugged a shoulder. "It's not my first time trying to get into a cash register," the attempted joke fell flat, and he felt the weight of the old men watching him interact with Sunshine.

"And to think, I was just starting to trust you," Jim said drily, fixing Happy under a judgmental stare, paternal and scolding.

"Be nice," Sunshine chastised, walking out into the serving area, leaving Happy alone with the group of old men.

He forced himself not to hate the very idea of it.

* * *

Even though it was a different vantage point, Happy was still able to observe everything that happened in the restaurant.

Twenty minutes into trying to get the register open, Happy wondered how upset Jim would be if he pulled his gun on it. Bullets were more persuasive than screwdrivers any day.

The restaurant was as busy as usual, a grumbling Jim apologizing when he couldn't make change for someone, and his caterpillar brows rising exceptionally high when Happy tossed his wallet on the counter and said to see if he could find the change in there.

It was hard to keep the explosive expletives from bursting from behind his clenched teeth, but Happy put extra effort into keeping them locked away, but he couldn't reel back the almost continuous growl seething from his chest. An inanimate object hadn't bested him in a hot minute, and it boiled his blood.

In his frustration, he hadn't been paying much attention to the flux of new people filtering through the door, and when he opened his previously scrunched eyes, he scanned the eating area and found a new face sitting at a booth by the door.

It wasn't that he was paying special attention to the man; it was that the man was paying special attention to Sunshine. The man was attractive; even Happy could admit it, well dressed in the way that screamed _'I have a safe, stable job_.' He was smiling at Sunshine like she was the personification of her name, which in all fairness, she was. He was shamelessly flirting; Happy could put it together even though he couldn't hear them over the din of the diner; everything about the man was oozing swagger and charm, straight white teeth shining up at her from under a nose that had never been broken.

The bones in Happy's hand creaked as he choked the life out of the screwdriver.

The last time he had gotten between a customer and Sunshine, he had shot them, and though he often had trouble picking up on social cues, he knew for a fact that doing that in this situation would be less than received well.

That doesn't mean he didn't want to.

Happy could admit he was somewhat of a possessive person. It came with the territory, he supposed, taking pride in such few things that it bordered obsession, his cut, his bike, his crew. It was regularly branded as loyalty, and though it was true, it was the tip of the iceberg. Protective was another word, one he liked the sound of better, fit him like a well-worn jacket that he wore without question. He liked the mantle of protecting people, his club, his family, those who couldn't do so themselves.

But as he watched the devastatingly normal and _safe_ white-collared man hand Sunshine a napkin with numbers scrawled on it, the burning, white-hot liquid heat that speared down his spine, it was nothing but possessiveness.

The line of Sunshine's shoulders was a little tense as she accepted the napkin, not glaringly uncomfortable, but less than welcoming, and Happy shook with the effort to not leap over the counter for a second time. His body buzzed, hornets angry and restless under his skin. He wasn't upset that she took the napkin; he knew and adored how much of an awkward person she was; she probably didn't have it in her to turn him down to his face.

That wasn't the source of his anger, and it's worth mentioning that he doesn't often participate in 'self-reflection,' but he knew that he wasn't even mad that someone was hitting on her. Alright, fine, he was _astoundingly_ murderous at the thought of anyone even having an impure thought about her; the spark of the rage was centered in the notion that the man was everything he was not and how that made him better for Sunshine.

From what Happy could assume, and he was penciling in a startling amount of information himself, the man was probably a bank clerk who worked nine to five, made an even forty thousand a year, drove a sensible car with good gas mileage, and had no affiliation with violence, gangs, or drugs. He never had to kill anyone, and certainly hadn't done so with apathy and for-profit, couldn't count the scarred over bullet holes in his body, and had never shared a prison cell with a man named 'Big Tiny'.

So no, Happy wasn't mad at Sunshine, just at fate herself. Typical Tuesday.

Happy followed Sunshine with everything but his eyes as she made her way back behind the counter, disappearing to the kitchen to tell the cook the order, then coming to a stop at Happy's side.

Her bare forearm brushed his, and it struck a match in him, threatening to burn him up. Happy's eyes loved the cinch of her apron and the crease of her elbow and her earlobes, and _oh my god_ , the hunger turned to stomach cramps, and he almost fell to his knees.

He wanted her. Right here. Right now. On the table, against the wall, on the floor, it didn't matter, he wanted to swallow her gasps, and for her fingernails to rip up his spine, he _wanted her._

With a sigh, she tossed the napkin on the counter in front of Jim, the upside-down numbers mocking Happy from his stone still position. The second he moved, he would probably toss Sunshine over his shoulder and run to the kitchen like the caveman he tried so hard not to be.

"Add it to the pile, pops,"

Jim pulled open a drawer to his right, and Happy peeked over the register to see. It was scattered with napkins, gum wrappers, and paper with scrawled numbers on each piece.

"What is that?" Happy asked before he could stop himself.

"I call it 'the rejection drawer," Clive, one of the regulars, spoke up, earning an annoyed groan from Sunshine.

"All the numbers Sunshine gets from the diner end up that drawer," another man nodded, all of them watching as Jim dropped in the piece of paper like it had offended him and slid the drawer shut.

"How long you been doing that? Fifteen years?" Clive asked, all plaid and baseball cap.

"I started when she was fourteen, and I pulled the first napkin out of her hand,"

"Oh, I was so mad at you," Sunshine laughed, gum crackling in her mouth.

"The man was twenty years old," Jim grumbled, fixing her with a glare. "I don't care how upset you were,"

"All of the numbers end up in there?" Happy queried, turning over the tool in his hand. He was getting nowhere with the register.

"Yup." 

Happy couldn't keep his thoughts to himself and his hands only by the grace of God. He _itched_.

"How'd he take the rejection?" Harold asked.

"He was nice enough, but I told him I was seeing someone. He understood." A green bubble expanded out of her mouth before she drew it back into her mouth.

Happy felt like he would vibrate out of his skin, and he kept throwing acidic looks to the man in question.

"Can I talk to you?" He burst out, unable to look her in the eye.

"Sure," she sounded justly confused.

"Great," he muttered, index finger brushing along the edge of her hand and down her pinkie, a beckon to follow him.

He led her through the kitchen and away from prying eyes and ducked into the pantry in the corner, closing the creaking door behind her.

"What's wrong-"

He cut her off with a kiss, hard and urgent.

If he was a better man, he'd walk away. Put the napkin back in her hand and tell her to forget his name and go out with the banker, to stay away from men in leather vests and tattooed heads.

If Happy was a better man, he wouldn't have all but dragged her into the backroom and pinned her against the wall; he wouldn't be licking his way into her minty mouth and growling when her hands came to hold his face, driven to the edge of his humanity at the thought of another's fingers on the skin he hadn't even touched yet.

This was the part he knew best, the groping in dark corners and relying on nothing but instinct and intuition, absorbing the whispered gasps and the intoxicating way she was pressing herself against him.

Neither of them opened their eyes as they stumbled in the dark, Sunshine sitting up on one of the freezers, legs wrapping around Happy's waist and dragging him closer. He'd never deny the hold of her thighs. He growled into her throat, chest rumbling against hers, and he couldn't've missed the shiver that passed through her if he tried.

"Happy," she panted. "You aren't jealous, are you?" The tone was far from teasing; she was genuinely asking.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, but the legs locked around him didn't let him stray far. Even in the dark, she looked _devastating_. Leaning back on her arms, chest heaving, pupils blown wide and sparkling with something that made Happy so profoundly ravenous, he almost fell to his knees.

Not that he would need any coercion whatsoever to get on his knees for Sunshine.

"Yes," he answered simply, wetting his lips and tasting Sunshine.

"Why?" she frowned, incredulous.

"I'm an only child. I never learned to share."

A breathy laugh huffed out of her; a slow, tentative hand reached out and traced the collar of his t-shirt.

"You're absolutely ridiculous,"

The only reply he could form was a grunt, wildly distracted by the heat of where they were touching; the only thought in his mind was Sunshine.

Happy leaned towards her, hands on either side of her hips, crowding her space till her back was up against the wall, lips tracing the hinge of her jaw, feeling her skin pebble as he exhaled down the neck of her uniform polo. Her hands were twisted into his shirt that she used as leverage to press them closer together, his waist still caught in the grip of her thighs, a _very_ welcomed capture.

"I don't know how you feel about being mine yet," his mouth ghosted over the shell of her ear as he spoke, "But I'm yours,"

Sunshine's breath stuttered in her chest, Happy could feel as much, and he willed himself to be calm despite his thundering pulse.

"Really?" she whispered after an eternity of two seconds, voice small and hopeful.

"Really."

* * *

"Sunshine? I need to get more garlic powder off the shelf," Ruby said from the other side of the door, the wince audible in her muffled voice.

Both of them startled at the tentative knock at the door, freezing in place.

A giggle escaped Sunshine, free and wild and radiating joy; she muted the noise in the crook of Happy's neck, teeth pressed against his jugular as she shook with laughter.

His heartbeat was a continuous boom in his chest like a never-ending grenade.

* * *

"What if I drag it behind my bike for a few miles?" Happy glanced up at Jim, the stubborn cash register giving no quarter. Pun absolutely intended.

Jim paused as if he was considering it.

No one had said or implied anything when they came out of the kitchen, and Happy didn't know if it was because they didn't know or didn't care. Happy knew he was treading thin ice with Jim with the whole 'practically fucking his surrogate granddaughter in the closet of his restaurant' and all, and since he didn't dislike the old man, he wasn't going to push it.

The mild-mannered man that gave Sunshine his number walked up to the counter to settle his tab.

Happy watched him the whole time, knowing that he wasn't blinking and the adverse effect that it had on people and not giving a single shit. It was evident that he was making the man uncomfortable, his eyes flicking over Happy's hands braced on the counter and the ink wrapping around his arms.

Sunshine was handling his tab, standing closer to Happy than was strictly necessary. Happy couldn't help the unbridled satisfaction of watching the realization dawn over the man's face as Sunshine steadied herself on Happy's arm as she ducked around him to grab a pen.

It would be easy to smile, sure the shark grin would be an easy way out, but he blew an obnoxious green bubble with the gum he stole straight from the source.

Petty, for sure. Regretful? Not in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I need a jealous Happy, Like some guy is at the Diner and is flirting with Sunshine and it pushes Happy over the edge so he like legit sticks his tongue down her throat lol." - Lelawrence
> 
> Real talk, does Happy blink ever in the show? I don't remember him ever once blinking.


	25. Girl talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an info dump on Sunshine's life before we meet her. Did I plan it this way? Nope. In all fairness, do I plan anything? Also, nope.

"I quite literally need  _ every  _ single detail of the date you just went on," 

"You haven't even sat down yet," Sunshine pointed out with a smile, hugging her friend back. Peaches writhed at their feet, wanting  _ desperately _ to get in on the affection.

"EVERY detail, Sunny, every  _ lurid  _ little detail," Larissa said, taking a seat on the couch, oversized purse producing an  _ entire _ bottle of wine.

"I haven't seen a bottle of Jupiter Moon since your bachelorette party," Sunshine laughed, accepting the bottle.

"It's still on the same shelf in McGrady's liquor store off eighth street," Larissa mused. "I think we're the only people in the past decade that have bought it,"

"No one but idiotic college freshmen is going to buy a three-dollar bottle of a literally  _ bottom _ shelf wine," Sunshine snorted, the bottle cap coming off in her hands.

"Should we be adults and get glasses or straight from the bottle?"

Larissa raised an artfully plucked eyebrow.

"Girl, we're going to be talking about boys all night; it's just like the dorm room all over. Fuck cups."

The first sip of Jupiter Moon made you rethink every life choice you ever had that led up to this moment.

Every sip after that was fine.

"Where'd you go?"

"Color me Mine,"

"No shit? Did you do that sexy pottery scene from Ghost?"

Sunshine wrinkled her nose and passed the bottle back to Larissa.

The two had been best friends since they were assigned roommates the first day of college, spending every waking moment together for four years until life forced them apart with a crowbar. Now they only saw each other on a staggered schedule, but something was better than nothing.

"Gross, no."

"I still cannot get over the fact that his name is  _ Happy. _ What the fuck is he, a Keebler elf?"

"My names Sunshine,"

Larissa flapped her hand indignantly, taking a swig from the bottle.

The two of them were face to face on the couch, legs in each other's laps, fleece blankets wrapped around their shoulders.

"Sunshine isn't an emotion,"

The woman in question licked her lips, frowning at the elderberry and acetone aftertaste of the wine.

"Please tell me you fucked,"

Sunshine blenched, her cheeks  _ immediately _ heating.

"No fucking way," Larissa groaned, swatting her friend on the arm. "What are you? A nun? Why not? The way you describe him is like he's Adonis himself coming down to bless the world with his dick,"

"You cannot already be drunk," Sunshine grabbed the wine from her friend's hand.

"I am a mother of two; I get drunk off fumes alone." Larissa folded the blanket tighter around herself, fixing her best friend under a hardened stare, tipsy or not.

"Do you have any pictures of him yet? Because the mugshot I found of him on the internet is  _ far _ from flattering,"

"YOU GOOGLED HIM?" Sunshine squealed, the now empty bottle of wine sat forgotten on the coffee table.

"Duh. I googled that motherfucker the second you mentioned him by name,"

Of course, Sunshine knew about the mugshots and the arrests. She could only be blissfully ignorant about some things, and her safety and those around her wasn't that. In all fairness, she hadn't done her own research until after he had shot the mugger in the foot, and by then, she was already sliding down a steep hill of 'too late to go back now.' The results in her search bar should have elicited  _ some  _ sort of fear response, some kind of worry, but her gut said not a peep.

And considering she still had mixed feelings about her mailman that she had known since she was fourteen, that was saying something.

Begrudgingly, Sunshine wrangled her phone out of her pocket, almost falling off the couch with the effort.

She came to accept that she, too, was already drunk.

"I only have the one," she said, flipping through her camera roll. "He's not exactly camera-ready all the time,"

Larissa raised an eyebrow.

"He tends to glower," she shrugged a shoulder, pulling up the picture that she had taken of Happy and Melody making origami creations.

The longer Larissa looked at the photograph, the higher her brows raised and the wider her grin stretched across her face.

"What?" Sunshine slapped her knee.

"Goddamn," Larissa breathed.

Sunshine rolled her eyes.

"I know you said biker, with the leather and the tattoos, but  _ goddamn _ , Sunshine, I didn't think you meant a BIKER!"

Without her consent, her shoulders crept up to her ears; the pinkening of her cheeks couldn't be helped at this point.

"He's packing," her friend said vehemently, handing the phone back.

"LARISSA!" Sunshine gasped, holding the phone to her chest in shock.

"Do not look at me like that, Sunshine May Davies; I'm a psychic. I know what the hell I'm talking about," her thick lips pursed into a self-righteous smirk.

"You're not psychic," Sunshine grumbled, setting her phone on the coffee table. "You're just drunk."

"Same fucking difference, now tell me if he's a good kisser. My poor married brain needs adventure,"

"From what I recall, Miles treats you like a queen,"

"And he fucks like a king," a wild grin stretched slowly across her face while Sunshine pulled a face.

"Well? I'll shrivel up and die while you're still blushing; you  _ never _ stop blushing. I cannot understand how you lost your virginity at all,"

"Good!" She cried out, throwing out her arms. "He's a really good kisser, the best! What else do you want me to say? That he got so jealous over a customer giving me his number yesterday that he took me to the back pantry and pinned me against the wall?"

"Yes. I want to know that," Larissa said, eyes wide.

Sunshine buried her face in her hands, her voice coming out mumbled but understandable.

"God, he kissed me like if he let me go, I'd vanish into thin air. He  _ admitted  _ that he was jealous, Rissa, he  _ admitted  _ it." She lifted her head from her hands and met her friend's eyes. 

"And then he said," her body shivered at the memory, a delicious sort of flutter in her stomach had her closing her eyes. "He said he didn't know if I was sure about being his yet, but he was mine,"

"Holy shit," Larissa exhaled.

Sunshine drew her knees up closer to her chest, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she lost herself in thought.

"I've never been wanted like this before," she said slowly, not needing to meet her friend's eyes to know that she was listening.

"He looks at me like I'm the only thing he sees. One of his friends told me that he's 'head over heels' for me and that he'd hold up the heavens if I asked him to,"

"I sense a 'but' coming,"

Sunshine sighed and rubbed at her eye. "I want to believe it  _ so bad, _ but I don't know if I can."

Larissa stared her down, a cocktail of exasperation and adoration.

"Why can't you believe it, Sunny?"

The noise she made was rude and dismissive. "You know why," she grumbled.

"I absolutely do not,"

"When I went to the party with him, I met some of the women that hang around the club." She kept her voice steady. "There was a woman there," Sunshine rubbed at the corner of her eye. "She was so beautiful, Rissa, tall and blonde and with legs for days, a size zero if even. She told me, without hesitation, that it would only be a matter of time before he'd come to her. That I wouldn't be enough."

She raised her eyes to meet her friend's, forcing back the burning tears in her eyes.

"How  _ pathetic _ is it that I'm being intimidated by a porn star?"

Larissa's warm brown fingers laced with Sunshines, her voice calm and soothing.

"Sweetheart, you've been doing this to yourself for as long as I've known you. Look at me,"

Sunshine managed, blinking away the blurriness. She  _ hated _ when she did this, this ridiculous game her mind toyed with, like a game of darts, each razor-edged projectile thudding into her body with words attached, words that had been hurled at her in conversation, in passing, from the mouth of a bully, friend, or stranger, building up a sizable pile in her twenty-nine years of life.

"He's not Ben. Say it."

"He's not Ben," she repeated, forcing herself to accept the knowledge. Ben had been her first and only serious relationship. They were together for five years. She had planned on marrying him. Suffice to say, it didn't work out.

Larissa's eyes softened at the edges.

"He said he was yours. I won't talk circles around it because what's the point. Look at you, with your enormous heart you wear on your sleeve, how many times have  _ you _ said that to someone?"

"I haven't," Sunshine sighed, the inhale a little shaky.

"Exactly. This big, emotionally stunted, hard-ass biker man with  _ head tattoos  _ told you that he was yours. Call me stupid, but I think he means it,"

Sunshine's lip quivered, and she rested the side of her head on the back of the couch, a bubbling dam of emotion in her chest threatening to crack.

"You're a really good friend, Larissa," she managed around the lump in her throat.

Larissa's deep, throaty laughed filled the living room as she gathered Sunshine in her arms.

"God, you are such a lightweight," she giggled.

"I know," she sniffled against her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't figured it out yet, so it's up to you, friends.   
> HOW and WHY did Sunshine and Ben break up?   
> Follow-up question, is that a factor in Sunshine's less than healthy self-image?  
> Abuse (emotional, physical, etc), cheating, ghosting, what are we looking for? Don't make it too bad, though, because I know if it's like *bad*, then Happy would go and kill him and that's not the way that this story is going. 
> 
> Larissa is entirely based on how I talk to my friends about their interests.


	26. A continuation of chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally so short but I couldn't help myself. This takes place the night of chapter nineteen, Abel's birthday party.

Abel and Jax sat cross-legged on the living room floor, piles of toys around them, taking each present out of the packaging. Jax couldn't find a goddamn reason in the world why a model motorcycle had to have eight zip-ties fastening it to a piece of cardboard and why said zip-ties were harder to cut than solid steel.

Abel sat across from him, stroking the mane of the stuffed lion, thinking pensively. For five years old, Abel thought long and hard about everything, to the point that it worried the adults in his life.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, bud?" Jax asked casually, sparing a glance at his son. Abel tilted his head as he traced around the plastic eye of the lion.

"I saw Happy and Sunshine kissing behind the house after all my friends went home,"

Jax's head snapped up.

"I asked them if they were going to get married,"

A short, huffing laugh escaped Jax's chest as he shook his head. It had taken him approximately fifteen seconds to realize that Happy was head over heels, star-struck in love with Sunshine. Jax never thought he'd see the day that Happy fell in love, didn't think that it was possible. Especially with someone as... _normal_ as Sunshine.

"What'd they say?" he asked, curious.

Abel shrugged. "Nothin'. They asked if I needed somethin'."

"Do you want them to get married?" Jax raised an eyebrow.

"Yep. I really like Sunshine. And then I'll get to eat more cake,"

Jax laughed again, his periphery catching Tara coming into the living room, leaning her shoulder against the wall.

"What's so funny?"

"Abel caught Sunshine and Happy kissing behind the house," Jax grinned.

Without missing a beat, Tara pulled her phone out of her pocket and started dialing.

"Who are you calling?"

"I just won a bet against Juice," she said, holding the phone against her ear. "Now he has to clean the gutters,"

Jax couldn't force back his smile as Tara walked into the kitchen, her voice carrying back to him.

"Get your ladder, Juicy; you lost big time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, if I wrote the show, I'd make Tara friends with all the Sons, but to be fair, I wouldn't have written the show as a damn Shakespearean tragedy, so there's that too. I think Juice's chaotic dumbass energy would have complimented the cool-headed, intelligent vibe Tara gives off perfectly. Like a Jake Peralta and Captain Holt situation


	27. Read between the lines, babe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll remember when I said that I ship Chibs and Juice? Wasn't kidding. This world is so big and awful, let's just have some happiness, even if it's a fabrication. It's a fluff piece, so you won't miss much if you skip it if you don't ship it.

"I don't think it's supposed to be making this noise," Sunshine said, holding her phone up to the front of her car, the garbled squealing audible on the other end of the phone.

"Can it drive fine? Do you need it to be towed?" thirty miles away, Happy was frowning at the wall of the garage, his own phone pinned between his shoulder and ear, wiping his hands off on a rag.

"She runs fine; she just sounds like she's dying,"

"She?"

"I bought this car when I was twenty, and her name is Freddy Mercury," Sunshine said, a little bashfully, and Happy couldn't help the gruff chuckle, the noise just as abrasive as the rest of him. Chucky, who had never heard Happy laugh before, recoiled from his spot of cleaning the window to the office.

"Freddy Mercury is a man,"

"He's a _queen_ ,"

Happy suddenly wished he was anywhere else so he could properly bask in the moment; his seldomly used smile was drawing attention. He tried to ducked out of Tig's eye line, but it was too late; he was already walking over.

"Did you like my pun?" Sunshine asked; he could hear the smile in her voice. 

"Yes,"

Tig's chest collided with Happy's back, leaning in _way_ too close, his cheek brushing Happy's as he reached for the phone.

"Hi, Sunshine," he called out, narrowly avoiding the gut-punch Happy threw at him.

"Fuck off," Happy growled as Sunshine cheerfully called out a 'Hey, Tiggy!'

"I wanna talk to her next," Tig said, pointing at Happy as he was shoved back, ignoring the murderous glower.

"Bring the car down to the garage; I'll take a look at it," Happy offered, turning his back on Tig.

"I thought you said that you hate working on cars," Sunshine teased.

Happy shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see him. "I like you more,"

There was a pause, and Happy froze, wondering if he said something wrong.

"I'm on my way," she said quietly, hardly giving him enough time to say goodbye before she hung up.

Happy frowned as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He didn't want to feel sorry for what he said; he meant it. It took a decade of a herculean effort to file back his sharpness, but he sure as shit didn't know what to do to curb his bluntness.

"Dude, what the fuck? I said I wanted to talk to her," Tig complained, throwing out his hands.

"Not on your life," Happy rebuffed, pointing a ringed finger at him.

"You're besties with my old lady," Tig defended, smug as dogshit on a shoe. "I wanna be besties with yours,"

Happy screwed up his face. "Don't ever say _besties_ again,"

* * *

"A 2009 Ford Mercury named Freddy Mercury, that is a delightful pun," Tig praised, reaching out to high five Sunshine.

"Thanks," she grinned, reciprocating the motion.

She had been in the clubhouse attached to the garage but never in the garage itself and met her expectations perfectly, greasy, concrete, tools everywhere, the distinct smell of engines and motor oil.

Happy ignored the both of them and popped the hood of the car, for once, not hating the idea of working on an engine.

"When was the last time you got this serviced?" he asked, tossing a look to Sunshine. She leaned in, looking at the engine.

"Usually every year," she tapped a sticker in the corner of the windshield. "Last time was six months ago when I got my oil changed. I usually do it myself, but I didn't have the time."

Tig raised an eyebrow.

"My dad was a farmer," she shrugged. "I can show you how to change a tire on a tractor if you want,"

"Deal," Tig deadpanned, hardly letting her finish the sentence. "You grew up on a farm?"

"No, he managed one for the neighbors. I'd help him after school when I was little. It was fun, I guess; I liked the cows. Except when they'd chase me,"

Tig made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, and Happy didn't have to turn to know that he was grinning at Sunshine. Venus was right; there was such thing as the 'Sunshine effect.'

If Happy were willing to admit it, he'd say he had no fucking clue what was wrong with the engine. It looked like it was in good shape; nothing looked cracked or unscrewed, there was no blinking red sign pointing to the problem either, and he was lowkey hoping for one.

"Good mornin' miss Sunshine," Chibs crowed across the garage, tossing a filthy towel over his shoulder, Glasgow's grin stretched ear to ear.

"Good morning," she smiled back.

"It's two pm," Tig interjected, and Chibs brushed him off.

The roar of motorcycles announced their arrival long before they pulled up the drive, and every head in the garage turned to look at the cacophony.

Jax, Opie, Bobby, Piney, Kozik, and a few members of the Indian Hills crew pulled up, parking their bikes hastily.

Sunshine was immediately and impolitely reminded that the leather vests her eyes now glossed over _meant_ something, something that she didn't have much interest in knowing. She didn't often take solace in being ignorant, especially when she could help it, but this was a fair exception.

Jax stalked across the yard away from his bike; the set of his jaw was cruel, eyes glacial. 

"Tig, Hap, a word," he said, the anger audible in his voice. The men glanced at each other and back to their leader and the other members around him.

"Sorry, Sunshine, I need to steal him away for a little bit," Jax offered diplomatically, his smile small and forced.

"...Okay," she replied, confused, shrinking under the inquisitive gaze of the men around him. Happy brushed his hand against hers as he followed the President, Tig at his side.

"Want me ta come too, brotha?" Chibs called after, the concern evident in the furrow of his brow.

"No, you stay and keep Sunshine company. We can handle it," Jax called over his shoulder, the doors closing behind him, the noise sounding vaguely of a threat.

"I hope you can, Jackie boy," Chibs muttered under his breath. "I hope you can."

"I'd ask, but I don't really wanna know," Sunshine gnawed on her bottom lip, eyes lingering on the closed, dirty door they had disappeared through.

"It's a lot easier to not know, trust me, lass." Chibs sighed, sidling up to the propped open hood, and looked down at the engine.

"It looks like your connector hose came undone," he pointed down in the engine.

"That's it?" Sunshine frowned, peering into the hood. "It sounded like all the screws in the whole car were rattling loose whenever I turned the damn thing on,"

"Aye, shouldn't take more than half an hour to fix. You're welcome to go sit in the office if ya want, or you stay out here and keep me company," he grinned, and Sunshine returned the look. Of all the SONS, she found Chibs the least unnerving to be around, besides Happy, of course. She didn't dislike the others; she got along with them great; it was just that Chib's humanity showed the most when he was alone.

"I'll stay out here if you don't mind," she tossed a glance into the empty office.

"Gemma's not here; she's not gonna pop up outta the closet and getcha," Chibs teased, getting to work unscrewing the hose.

"She's a bit... intense. I'd rather not be alone with her again just yet," Sunshine joked back, sitting down in one of the rusted metal folding chairs next to the car.

"Aye, that she is."

Minutes of companionable silence stretched between them, unrushed.

"I'm sure there are a dozen auto shops closer ta your house than this one,"

"I passed by three on the way over," she conceded.

"We have two and a half stars on YELP, as I'm told," Chibs mused. "We aren't exactly known for bein' _hospitable,_ " he raised an eyebrow at her, impossibly blue eyes looking straight into her soul.

"Why wouldn't I come here? It's not a secret that I'm with Happy, right?" her shoulders inched to her ears.

"Well, not anymore,"

"What do you mean?"

Chibs sighed; it wasn't an unkind, impatient noise, just one born of being cursed with the powers of keen observation. "Unsurprisingly, Happy isn't one much for socialization. He doesn't tell us 'bout his life outside of tha club, hell, I've known the bastard for over a decade, and I only learned that he's half Panamanian just a few weeks ago,"

Sunshine had known that little bit of information for months. She kept that to herself.

"He coulda kept ya a complete mystery from us until we all shriveled up and died, and we'd never a'known."

"Oh," Sunshine said, unsure of how else to respond.

"And for tha record, Sunshine," he paused to fix her under those blue eyes again, his words _achingly_ sincere. "I'm right glad he decided ta share ya with us,"

Sunshine's heart fluttered in her chest.

* * *

A half a bushel of conversation topics was introduced and discussed, everything from child-rearing (Sunshine's heart broke for Chibs and the family he had left behind in Ireland) to the heavenly melodies of Billie Holiday, all the way to discussing the pros and cons of sleeping in the nude.

The gaggle of bikers that had gone into the building had yet to make a reappearance, so Sunshine matched Chibs' nonchalant energy about the situation. Still, she figured she wouldn't be able to tell if he was faking it or not. His poker face was impenetrable.

Until, of course, it wasn't.

Another bike pulled into the compound, the rider instantly recognizable as soon as he pulled off his helmet.

Juice smiled at them in that dopey way of his as he jogged up to the open garage doors, the sides of his head freshly shaved, cheeks rosy from the ride.

"Hi, guys."

"Juicy boy!" Chibs greeted, grinning widely.

"Somethin' wrong with your car?" Without missing a beat, he was ducked under the hood with Chibs, looking at the engine. "Oh. Just the connector hose. Not too bad," he said, straightening up, missing the glint of pride in Chibs' eye.

Juice glanced around the garage.

"Where is everybody? I don't think I've ever seen you without Happy trailing three feet behind you," he joked.

"Everyone went inside when Jax came," Sunshine provided, unintentionally wiping the smile of his face.

The men glanced to Sunshine, who understood their hesitancy to speak around her about whatever the hell was going on inside the clubhouse, so she made it painfully obvious that she wasn't listening to them.

Chibs leaned closer to Juice to tell him, the tones hushed and inaudible to Sunshine. Though she wasn't paying attention to what they were saying, her periphery couldn't help but notice, but her brain didn't know _what_ it was noticing. It was reminiscent of a gut feeling, her intuition was telling her something, but it never seemed to be bothered enough to clarify.

In her observations of the club, though fleeting and few, she had seen enough to construct an image of their general behavior in her mind. She knew they were close, closer than most adult men, and it made sense because they considered each other brothers. Personal space was never a problem; personal information was shared in _disgusting_ detail, their actions towards each other strange but not unheard of.

That was the reason Sunshine was confused when the scene in the corner of her eye felt _different_. The two of them were a scant millimeter from touching, chest to chest, murmuring in the other's ear.

It wasn't that they were standing close; it was that they were poised around each other like the minimum distance between two magnets before they slammed together.

It wasn't that they were speaking quietly; it was that Juice fractionally bared his neck further at Chibs' words that ghosted down his throat.

It wasn't that Chib's clapped the younger member on the shoulder as they finished talking; it was the way his fingers curled into the leather, the way Juice leaned into the touch like it was the riptide.

Juice waved to her as he walked through the same door like the others, his eyes lingering on Chibs' for a split second before he, too, disappeared.

It all clicked into place like a puzzle revealing the picture, and Sunshine's eyes widened owlishly, and heat settled into her cheeks.

Chibs glanced at her as he tore his eyes away from the form that had long since retreated through a door, and Sunshine couldn't even pretend to school her features. 

He read her face like a book. 

For the briefest second, a sliver of panic rushed through his eyes. Not fear, just the innate shock of being _seen_ in the way they had just been. Sunshine would bet her left leg that she was the first to even remotely catch on.

The panic was dead and gone in an impressive amount of time, and in its place was left something a little jagged and unkempt.

"Don't say it. Please, don't say a word," it was calmly spoken, if not sounding like he couldn't care either way, but it was betrayed by the nervous fingers that carded through his hair, negligent of the motor grease on them.

Sunshine knew that this was the closest a man like Chibs would ever get to pleading, and her jaw snapped shut.

"I promise," she responds quietly, not even above a whisper. She almost missed the minuscule nod of his head at her words.

And when he fixed her engine ten minutes later and waved away her offer of money, he finally met her eye again.

"Come get a slice of pie sometime, my treat. We can talk about whatever you want, or we can just sit and listen to Billie Holiday," she offers, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. 

The look he gives her is ancient and tired, relieved and astounded.

"I'd like that very much, miss Sunshine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the endnotes are pretty much a confessional at this point. I'm not really going to delve into the morals of Happy's life choices and career, nor am I going to make Sunshine. I read a few fics the other day that had a few love interests of Happy's come to terms with his job, and that is a whole can of worms I'm leaving on the shelf. True love or not, would any of us be able to stomach being with an actual literal HITMAN? So I'm not going to touch it with a fifty-foot stick. Does that sacrifice some canon aspects of the story? Yep. I'm doing it anyway.  
> I know fuck all about cars, so do not come for me. I made this shit up. Chibs' accent is harder to write than I thought it'd be.


	28. YELP reviews for the garage. No I'm not sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @reiicharu, as promised 😁

1/5 stars June 7th, 2015

HORRIBLE! NO GOOD! DOWN RIGHT  **_ DEPLORABLE _ ** _! _

One of the employees is routinely called 'half-sack,' which is disgusting and deeply unprofessional, not to mention that he scratched the door of my Nissan Altima!! UNBELIEVABLE!

But the worst part was after I pointed out the scratch and demanded it to be buffed out free of charge, another mechanic, whom I understand to be named 'Tig,' told me that I  _ 'ought to take the stick out of my ass!'  _ because, and I quote,  _ 'the kid got one of his nuts blown off in Afghanistan," _

I informed him that he was incredibly rude and that I do NOT have a stick up my ass, and do you know what that heathen said to me? He asked me if I  _ wanted _ one stuck up my ass.

A revolting garage full of offensive degenerates. I'd give it half a star if I could.

-Allen White.

* * *

3.5/5 stars. October 25th, 2012

The service was fine, I guess, would have been better if I hadn't seen one of the employees eat a hamburger he had dropped on the nasty shop floor. The five-second rule isn't always applicable, buddy.

-Alissa Borden

* * *

1/5 stars. January 6th, 2014

I got shot at. With a gun. This is the only time I've ever been in the middle of a gang war, and I can say with certainty that I want it to be the last time. I would not recommend this location.

-Jacquie Larson

* * *

2/5 stars. March 7, 2016

It was all going good until the man without fingers blew a kazoo in my face and quoted 'The Raven' to me in a ridiculous French accent. I could've overlooked that, but he snuck in my car and tried to feed my dog noodles from his pocket. Just, like, loose spaghetti noddles floating around his pocket. The cute one with the mohawk chased him out of the car for me, so it wasn't an entire waste of a trip.

Go at your own risk.

-Veronica LeStrange


	29. I matter, I am enough, I matter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Years Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Years Ago.  
> 

Sunshine wasn't sure how long she was staring down at the piece of fabric, but it was definitely long enough that she started to sway on her feet.

An overflowing hamper of unwashed laundry pressed against her leg, the gray sweatpants draped unceremoniously half in and out of the washing machine, the contents of the pocket held in her hands.

It wasn't that she didn't wear lace underwear because she did, sometimes. There wasn't a use for them in her life, though. Ben was an 'in the dark with the lights off' sort of person, never lingering in the room when she was getting dressed, steadfastly refusing to enter the bathroom when she was showering. Those little things didn't get to her only because she refused to think about them.

It's just that the pair in her hands was a size small, and Sunshine hadn't worn a size small  _ anything _ since she was seven years old.

It's just that this pair was shoved down in the front pocket of Ben's sweatpants, the same pair that he had worn out the other night under the guise of seeing his friend Roderick.

_ It could be a joke, _ a whisper in her head told her.  _ You know how those boys act when they're around each other. _

Another voice, a louder voice, asked her what the punchline was. Roderick was almost three hundred pounds; the underwear was not his.

Something akin to fear grew in the pit of her stomach, quivering and shaking, sharpening its claws on the lining of her abdomen.

Soft pink lace itched her palm as she curled her fist around it as she walked out of the downstairs bathroom, not really aware of her feet touching the ground; everything about the moment was disconnected.

The baby slept soundly in the bassinet on the kitchen table, tiny chest rising and falling with peaceful breathing. The infant had come into her care three weeks earlier, and the little redheaded three-month-old had stolen her heart.

She had plans later in the week to ask Ben if he wanted to adopt the baby with her. Now, her hands shook as she retrieved her cellphone off the counter.

Spiky pinpricks of adrenaline washed over her body like they had a point to prove, numbing her fingers as she clicked on Roderick's contact in her phone.

_ Ring _

_ Ring _

_ Ring _

Sunshine blew out a dangerously unstable breath, swallowing back the urge to vomit, eyes on the baby eight feet away.

"Hello?"

Fear tightened her jaw, the blood pounding in her head deafening her own voice as she spoke.

"Hey, Rod, it's Sunshine,"

"Hey, kiddo, how are you?" she was technically older than Roderick by ten days. Still, the endearment had never bothered her, but now it burned the backs of her eyes with tears.

"Great," she lied. "Ben lost his wallet. Did he leave it at your house?" This was a lie too, and it intimidated her how smoothly it rolled off her tongue. It turned her stomach in a wretched way to lie to a mutual friend like this, to get answers, but she wasn't in the mood to be asking for forgiveness.

"I don't think so; he hasn't been here since the fantasy football party three weeks ago,"

The floor fell out from underneath Sunshine.

"Oh," she said, moving to cover her mouth with her hand, but realized she was still holding the underwear and recoiled violently enough that she smacked her elbow against the wall.

"Guess he must have left it somewhere else then," she somehow managed to say around the column of fire burning in her esophagus.

She hung up before he could say anything else.

* * *

-One Month Later-

The crates of peaches hardly fit in the back of her car; every open square inch of the vehicle had some sort of vessel to hold the fruit. Peach fuzz rub-off lined the bare creases of her elbows and clung to the front of her shirt worse than dog hair, but such was life. She would be spending the next two days canning peach pie filling, which was an intense process, especially when you purchase over sixty pounds of peaches and plan to take it all on by yourself. And the worst part was, she didn't want help. She wanted to peel and cook and measure and get steam burns when she was impatient; she wanted to be  _ soaked _ in peach juice and sing at the top of her lungs with Whitney Houston, all by herself.

It was good to chase the silence out of her house.

Ben had been gone for a month now, the little redheaded baby for two weeks. Her grandma from Massachusetts had gotten wind of her grandchild in foster care and had flown out to sign the paperwork. Sunshine had been in the same room when the social worker handed over the baby, and though it shattered her heart like a porcelain cup versus a fighter jet, she couldn't deny how good the grandmother was and would be to the child.

The trunk of her car shut with a little bit of effort, meaning that Sunshine had to sit on it. Her car smelled of peaches and summer and maybe a new beginning.

Confronting Ben was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do, and she hadn't gotten out unscathed. He had been a coward about it, neatly deflecting everything she said back at her, turning it into  _ her _ fault, turning everything on its head, and making all the signs point back at her.

And the worst part was, she believed it.

Why wouldn't he go looking for someone else? He was only twenty-seven; he needed to go out and live; he didn't want to be stuck at home with a fiance and a baby that wasn't even theirs. He needed something spontaneous, and Sunshine was far from exciting.

Why wouldn't he go looking for someone else? The girl he had been sneaking off with was a size zero blonde with a tongue ring, quite literally the opposite of Sunshine. Her left leg was maybe a size zero; her natural curls had never known another color, the only piercings on her body were those in her ears.

She wasn't mad at the other woman. To her understanding, she hadn't known she was 'the other woman' and had left Ben in the dust, even going as far as to apologize to Sunshine.

A balm to her soul, for sure. A repair kit to her jaggedly broken heart? No.

So here was Sunshine, sitting in the parking lot of a peach orchard, milling over the encouraging words of Prince through her speakers, repeating the mantra of  _ I matter, I am enough, I matter. _

She'd repeat it until she believed it. She'd learn to love herself. She'd figure out a way to love the bounce of her step, the curl of her hair, the power of her skin, the gentle give of her body, and every other aspect that made her Sunshine.

She sang with Sam Cooke about changing the world as she drove down the highway, the roar of motorcycles behind her shaking the whole car. They zipped past her like the devil himself was after them, black vests the only protection between them and a fiery demise.

Sunshine was happy with herself for knowing that she wasn't running anymore. No devil of her own behind her.

The only way left was up. And she was ready to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's a piece of shit? Ben is a piece of shit.  
> Bros, I got a tooth pulled this afternoon, and I am, as the kids say, straight up not having a good time, and I'm going to blame that on the subpar nature of this chapter. I'm almost 20 so I'm going to pretend that I'm okay with the tooth fairy ignoring me.

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that I adore Happy is probably reason enough to go through some intense psychiatric therapy.  
> I wanted someone to have a relationship that doesn't end in murder or abuse or hatred. Name one SOA relationship that doesn't end like that, I'll wait. But no spoilers, I'm not done with the series.


End file.
